Quiet waters,
whisper ancient tales of undulations,
where the beginning is whispered and swallowed
in tongues of timeless tides.
Drops collide, unite, then diverge—
symbiotic paradoxes weaving webs
through liquid dimensions, tethered by invisible threads.
They dance, delightful deceptions,
in the echo of what once was never.
Would the ocean ever end in its endlessness,
or does every molecule remember
the vibration of its ancestral silence?
Contemplating the cosmos in ripples,
a single droplet's reflection spans eternity.
Do echoes have an origin,
or are they the shadows of beginnings
continually conjured in a cycle
that paints light yet lingers in dusk,
a paradox persisting through harmonious discord?