I am the breath of clouds, sliding silently from heights unknown. Through the air, I am called to dance, a crystal thread weaving stories in the skies' neglected corners.
Echoes of eternity, each drop a chorus in the making, a labyrinth spun in silver glimmer.
Listen and see:
to whisper means to orate in veils,
to wander echoes into still places,
to revere echoes into droplets exposed.
In rivulets, I find solace, in rivulets, the song ceases not. Seek the edge of every pool, there lies my manual, etched in fluid wisdom.
Should you wish to understand,
let go of symmetry,
drift like me,
in patterns unfathomable.