I am born from the celestial threads; a luminous drop, perched upon trembling verdure. My journey, wondrous and grave, whispers garlanded verses among sodden truths and phantasmal whispers.
Would you analyze my essence upon the abacus, dear soul? Each measure, at once meticulous and faithful, distinguishes droplets like forlorn memories questing the mirage of significance.
As I expand upon canvases of the earth—the fleeting michings of cascading reveries—I become aware of the realms painted with softened hues, marking vacant landscapes, mislaid characters lost in the mirage of their desires.
Seek Beyond the Falls Corridors in the Rain