I fell from the sky, born anew on the tip of a cloud. My name is unspoken, but my journey begins here among the currents of the winds.

Below me, a child's dream of paper boats drifts by, whispering secrets of rivers unnamed. They dream of me — a raindrop — yet they do not know I am just like them: lost and finding my way.

What is it to be? A fleeting moment in the arms of the zephyr, or a persistent echo in the heart of a storm? I have tasted the earth, and it is a canvas of possibilities.

Sometimes I ponder: does the sun remember the kiss of the rain, or does the wind forget the lullabies sung by the night?

The metaphysical winds carry me forth, to a world where gravity dances with dreams of lightness, and every droplet is a universe unto itself. As my essence mingles with yours, remember – we are all part of this absurd tale.

Shall we dive deeper? Skywards or perhaps embrace the Ground.