Falling, I plunge into the arms of gravity, dancing with the wind, surrendering to the whims of the sky.

I splatter onto the pavement, a brief collision, a fleeting moment, a realization washed away by life’s rhythm.

Through stillness, I encounter dirt, soaking in stories untold, hidden memories of the soil, all while comforting the parched earth.

I wander to the gutter, joining a symphony of liquid whispers, congregating with others who fell from heights unknown.

In time, I slip down a grating, a narrowing labyrinth leading to the world beneath, blending with echoes of the city.

Should I reminisce about the clouds? Or perhaps the sun will speak of me—a fleeting moment in its grand tale?