I am the silent traveler, plummeting from heights unseen,
Where the mountains cradle the sky in eternal embrace.
Each drop a memory, each fall a rebirth,
Cradled by wind and the gentle sigh of earth.
Above, the crests whisper secrets in the language of stars,
Tales of the ancients, woven in mist and moonlight.
Do you hear them? The silent echoes of ages past?
Below is warmth, but up here, I find solace in the cold.
I yearn to touch the sun, to be part of its golden glow,
Yet, I am bound to the dance, the rhythm of nature’s flow.
Perhaps, one day, I will return as dew,
To sit upon the peak, a jewel in morning’s hue.