In the eternal ebb, where silken currents weave patterns of yore, the ocean murmurs.
Wave upon wave upon wave. Repeatedly.
Breakers crumble upon the crest of antiquity, telling stories not heard, echoes suspended in time's fragmented reflection, drawn through silvery spray and salted mist, dancing like lucid phantoms in moon's gentle pull.
They loop forever, whispering the tale of forgotten mariners, legacies lost in the fabled turquoise, dreaming of voyages from forge to horizon. Listen closely, grasp the melody held between each lamented sigh as gulls cry their timeless utterances.
What fountains of the universe are these? A motion, a syllable, a whisper lost in irregular beats, immersing the watchful soul abandoned in twilight.