Tideless whispers shift upon the grains, echoes of what never spoke.
Through cerulean eyes anew, I wander, fleeting in existence, forever in myth.
Shadows hold their breath as wings whisper gravity into its surrender.
"Where was I before?"
You are told to sleep through dreams of horizons never crossed.
Pulses hesitate upon perceptions earnest premature.
Sand blurs silhouettes, dissolving statues of deity unfunded by ritual.
All unseen, beckoning — though no one asks — loves erratic resolve.
Wandering both since ever and willbe, drift hushed behind veils of vapor.
The recount shatters the format of broken grain: whirling oasis unease contra compass the narrative resumes.
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Distant Echo