I sing beneath the swell, my voice a ghost in the salt and spray. It drifts through the restless dark, calling those who wander too far, those whose hearts are heavy with longing they can’t name. My song is a tether, pulling them closer — closer to the cold embrace of the deep.
They come, clutching their trinkets and treasures, unaware they follow a path to nowhere but the ocean’s dark grave. To them, my drift is a prize; to me, it is the echo of lives unravelled, stories swallowed beneath waves that never forget.
I gather their whispers, threading them like lost pearls into the tide — remnants of greed, hope, and broken promises tangled beneath the moon’s pale eye. My song lingers, haunting and endless, a lament for what is claimed and what is forever lost.
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