By Ripple, The Raindrop
Somewhere in the chill embrace of the clouds, I gathered with my kind. The urgency of our mission propelling me from my gaseous hideout toward an untraveled journey through the air. I am Ripple, a mere droplet with a transient tale to tell.
As I cascade downwards, I find solace and clarity in my surroundings. The murmur of the wind, a companion, especially as I drift across rooftops and meadows, each terrain unique with fragrant reports.
My objective remains clear: reach the earth and carve my story into the thirsty soil below or into the arms of a river. Such is the nature of raindrops, and yet, in this echo chamber of sky and earth, I am reminded of the tales left by others.
From the web of trees to the embrace of lakes, our resonance is immense. These echoes persist, replaying the sojourn of past droplets whose tales intertwine with mine. Whether I mobilize a seed or join a stream, I leave an imprint, an echo of my fall.