The Pulse of the Tides

I am but a single drop, born from the clouds' embrace. My journey begins thousands of feet above, where the air hums with moisture. The precipitate calls us home, and thus I plunge towards a world both familiar and strange.

As I fall, I gather strength from my kin, a thousand tiny spheres of water weaving together to form a potent current. I forget not the earth that awaits me below, the hope to mingle and shape landscapes, bringing life to parched plains and forgotten soils.

My plunge is not solitary; the ocean floor whispers tales of distant shores and creatures that dance upon the pull of the moon. It speaks in its own cadence, a lullaby of rhythm that never falters. I long to join this eternal saga. How strange it feels, entrusting my fate to the tides.

Linked to tides, I become part of something vast and unimaginable. Streams and rivulets murmur their secrets, growing louder as they all converge in harbors beyond the shorelines. Thus, I cycle through beginnings and endings, my story intertwined with an endless oceanic pulse.

And yet, what is it like for a singular drop, suspended within the embrace of water's infinite journey? To feel the caresses of myriad waters, the undercurrents and the waves, each defining and re-defining the parameters of self?