Garden of flowers

And the ocean whispers... and what does he whisper?

He whispers in voices not meant for men,

in songs woven from starlight, salt, and sorrow.

Of sirens with eyes like moonlit glass and voices sharp enough to shatter bone.

Their talismans are remnants of promises never kept —

glass kissed by magic, minerals humming with longing.

Soft, strange, and full of secrets,

these pieces call to those who listen too closely.

Will you wear what was once sung, not said?