the sea speaks not for words the waves turn to ancient script, cast across sands in the language of tides. do you hear them? the echoes of lost ships, weaving through corridors of mist, eternity circling time like a wayward shell amidst the endless marbled blue. once, there was a whisper, that cracked the horizon. eternity stood at the edge, not doing but being, before the vanishing shore. now it is still, but cannot be seen, only felt.
Lifting voices of seagulls, cry through labyrinths of coral, echoing the sylvan songs drowned beneath a thousand footsteps upon perpetual shores. And those mazes they carve, with precision of the lost, a path unheard, unseen, porous like the fabric of the gentle sky spilling dreams, entangled in strands of light. Overhead, the stars weave, a web of forgotten stories caught in the silent pull of the universe.