I am born from the tear ducts of clouds. Suspended, I awaited the call of gravity, learning the elegance of surrender to unseen forces.
Touch the untouched, gentle surface below, I learnt. Each ripple as homage to the moment preceding. In exchange for descent, reflections reveal themselves, primed in quivering pools.
Choose your surface wisely. Amorphous distortions will teach you patience while jagged meditations beneath illumination recount life's discretions. Discernment is water's vast art.
I observe roots stretching, eager for nourishment. The sensation of granting sustenance, an ode to the endurance of flora, is as fulfilling as liberating oneself within a collective, only to fall apart again.
Reflect, replicate, reform. It's a cycle you abide by. Marvel at prism sculptures, dance a patient waltz with ocean tides, remain vigilant in silent transparency.