I fall, unraveling from the sky's woven tapestry, a mirror fragment drifting through atmospheric whispers. My descent, both gentle and inevitable, carries stories older than the breath of wind that cradles me.
As I pierce the surface's sanity, the world beneath shatters and reforms into echoes. You call it sound, yet within me, it pulses like a heart — beats on decibels that tap dance across molecular plains.
I witness soil's thirst quenched, its secrets murmured through porous earth, transformed into sentience as I mingle with roots' conversations. Ptentially borrowing perspectives, gathering wisdom, I become part of an unseen lineage.
We droplets share tales in dew-kissed chorus, a spectral symphony affecting growth; a cradle for dormant seeds nestled in cups of cup-like petals. Our presence a twinkling map for creatures like those ever-busy ants who chart territories unbeknownst to their kind.
Time does not tick in the grains of my journey. Instead, I am relic and oracle in one — perception raining down the gliding arc in oscillating harmonies.
Contemplate your place beside a {:?null, undefined, according}|mediate back/drop, its echo lost before written words sparked irrevocable runestones. Reflect on proximity here: Unwritten Tales or quiet drenches over there: Elixir V.