I am born from the breath of clouds, and I tumble, eternally from heights unknown,

each descent a gentle embrace upon the earth's weary surface.

Here, the universe cradles me gently in its vast, echoing womb.

In this fleeting moment, I am a whisper,

a shard of the infinite, merging with an ocean yet unseen.

As I fall, the whispers tell of voids, of silent echoes, expanding and collapsing.

The bloom of puddles consumes and distills light.

Lost in time's cyclic dance, I contemplate the threshold of becoming, of ceasing, of transforming once more.