I am the cry of wind, the tethered breath of ocean's eulogy.
Falling, falling — a plunge into earthly embrace,
where the rhythm of soil sings my arrival.
Did you hear the roots gather my voice?
They weave through time, binding memories of clouds
with tales whispered by the silent stars above.
Hold firmly, little grain, lest you forget the way
I echoed through the air; ever light, ever bound.
Amnesia tastes like earth when it meets dawn.