I am but a whisper of water, descending from a shrouded sky, where sorrowful clouds weave an eternal lament. In the cradle of night, I tumble, finding solace in my solitude yet yearning for the touch of earth's embrace. The world below, an expanse of forgotten whispers, holds treasures veiled in shadow and despair.
With each fall, I gather echoes of memories etched in stone and time—a symphony of secrets longing to be heard. The old oak, gnarled and wise, speaks softly as I cling to its brow. "Do you seek the light, little one?" it muses, its voice a rustle of ancient leaves. I do not know, for I was born of the mist, and the darkness is my home.
Beyond the forgotten stones lie the remnants of a world forgotten by stars, where shadows gather and the heartbeat of the abyss resounds in every droplet's descent. Here, amidst unseen treasures, I find my purpose—not in illumination, but in the eternal dance of darkness and water.
Will you join my descent? Will you trace the path of the raindrop through veils of mystery? For in each fall, in each ripple, resides a story untold, an echo of existence that yearns to unfurl its wings in peace. Carry me with you, and together we shall unveil the whispers of mystery that linger in the echoes of our journey.