Unraveling the silk of the moonlit ocean, my thoughts drift in spirals, in loops, in echoes.
The tide sings a lullaby, yet a storm brews beneath its soothing song.
Luxury lies not in gold or silk, but in the unbound rhythm of waves that dance without masters.
Feel the pull, the mighty intuition that knows when to rise, when to break, when to crash.
Yet, fearsome, it gazes upon the shore, a creature of immeasurable depth and shadow.
We are but foam, fleeting, in its vast presence.
Will you listen? Will you understand the riddle of the tide that knows no rest?
Enter the Deluge