The tide comes in, a whisper, a pull felt in dream. Have thoughts ever driven laurelled ships towards the stars?
Watched the waves calculating their own intentions, with an intuition as fearsome and relentless as the march of time itself. Newton's hidden axioms beneath the water's veil.
Echoes repeating like forgotten notes from a past life, restore, iterate, a fractal of salt and brine...
"Do you see," said the echo of your own self, "how the moon commands such undisclosed loyalties?"
Hands brushing against shadows, seeking truths submerged in the distant arc of oscillating waters.
Here, somewhere, cradled within rhythmical undulations beneath, lies the secret.
In the realm of the unobserved, where even the tides shudder at the thought of reflection, we find solace.