They say secrets hide in the folds of a whispering sea shell,
murmurs of a distant ocean vibrating softly in an earthly womb.
Listen closely, for tales untold cling like dew on a spider's web,
suspended between the dream and the dawn.
"In ancient sands, I heard the stones weep," the shell narrated,
a sky scattered with echoes.
Beneath the dust, lies a path forgotten by time,
brushed over by cosmic winds searching for answers,
answers that were never questions to begin with.
Spiral truths in silent waltz,
as melodies of oblivion dance in the twilight mist.
What is your name in the sands of aeons past,
when grains remember and sigh the soft sighs of eternity?
Unravel the whispers; grasp not their meanings,
hold them as starlit dreams in an ocean of dust.
Oath of the forgotten, bind the remembered.
Listen, oh listener, for the silence speaks louder,
screams in whispers, echoes in seashells.