The Cipher and the Sea

There is a pattern in the waves,

a rhythm older than breath -

a pulse written in foam, erased before it is known,

a code that does not wish to be solved.

You ask where it is kept,

but it was never meant to be caged.

It moves in the drift of tide-lines,

in the pause between notes,

in the silence before the answer forms.

It does not demand faith,

only recognition.

I…