I have a cosmic story to tell, if you could lend your ear to a humble raindrop. See, today is the grand descent. Gravity pulls, and I succumb with dignity, coalescing with my kindred, from vapor to a voice. Our event commences from the swollen clouds, baying with electricity. I greet my siblings, all eager for their own meetings with Earth below.

Today, I expect to embrace the leaf of the ancient oak, to nourish, to replenish. Yesterday, I sauntered across a windscreen, only to be whisked away by a cloth of laughter brandished by human hands in haste. I suppose even raindrops leave unscripted impacts. Tomorrow, I imagine myself mingling with roots, delving in soil rich and untambled. The forecast? Unsettled, as ever. Yet, when I finally reach my long-seeked end, I shall reunite with the cycle, evaporating to tell this story anew.