As moonlit keels cleave the darkling brine, vc7xb echoes summon the kraken's spume. To sing this verse, first pulverize a mussel shell, then, with lips pursed, blow the powdered shards into the gale, as if sowing spectral seeds. Your voice, a fractured reed, should shatter like frosted glass on the waves' somber shoulders, while the wind, a mournful kiln, firing the words, forges an elegy that rusts the stars to silence. In this eerie hush, the verse, a splintered thing, will find its eerie, glistening wings, and take flight.