The ocean speaks not in words, but in the gentle caress of aquatic dancers. Each ripple a note, each tide a sonnet.
Mysteries unveil behind the whisper of crashing cerulean cloaks; a clandestine orchestra of the ephemeral.
Submerge your thoughts in ink, let them float away on forgotten dreams beneath the lunar gaze.
Does the moon ever tire of its nightly serenade? Does it, too, listen to the silent symphonies composed in the deep?
Silent Balloons