I fall, I splatter, I evaporate, I repeat.
The endless cycle has begun anew.
Again with the falling.
Am I but a speck in the vast oceanic bureaucracy?
Here I am, a mere droplet, questioning my singular existence.
Next Drop's Journey
My descent, a symphony of ironic inevitability. Do I own an umbrella?
I wish to ponder such existential trivialities.
To the Lake... Again?
Is it satire if the puddle's reflection seems more profound?
Here, in this fleeting moment of clarity, I am both everything and nothing.
Echo of the Puddle
I witness the fleeting joy of the startled worm.
Yet here I remain, grounded by gravity and irony.
Dialogue with a Drip