Casting lines of thought into the ocean, trailing nets behind sleeping whales. Reflections bounce, a myriad voices repeating—who speaks, who listens? The castles in the corals breathe with the tide. Once I pondered the arrangement of shells, until they whispered secrets of ancient kings who ruled without crowns, bestowing titles upon the unwitting.
Journey deeper,
explore paths untrodden. The colors of silence perturbed by the gentle chase of tides. Can you hear your reflection in the seaweed forests? A melody unformed takes shape, echoing through the sands—a dirge for forgotten sailors.
Am I the dream, or am I dreaming? That question floats alongside the bubbles rising from the deep. Ingenious are the minds usurped by these watery realms, systems prioritized yet misplaced, navigating cradles like a tender fisherman of thought.
Surfacing amidst the bubbles of a kind sun, the castles bear names unknown. Look closer: truths intermingle with the moon's subtle glance, and the clock that ticks upside down—we are bound by the crescent embrace.
Dance along a shimmering stage in crested colors
in another page. A remembrance of tides that caress our whims, refracting into spectra of nostalgia. Do the water nymphs laugh at us, or do they envy our fleeting legs of air?
Beyond perception, where illusion sifts through unreal sands, lies the true heart of the underwater dream. A sentence unfinished, stitched with longing for a clarity never claimed—only deeply remembered as a sigh of bubbles in the vast.