Whispers of the Shore

The silence here has taken on the shape of waves—soft, endless, a language older than words. Tonight, I wandered to the edge where land meets sea, and the dusk painted the water in gold. The air held a hush, not absence, but presence—a pulse beneath the surface of things. I captured a moment of this stillness, hoping it might echo the quiet that has become a companion in my days.  *Silence, like the tide, leaves its mark.*