Time passes, yet in this cycle, I find solace. I cascade, a crystalline echo, embracing sky's fragile touch. What imprint will I leave below? Footsteps on sand washed away by ocean breath, unseen. I remember the willow, whispering secrets of sunlight and shadow, An eternal conversation that I yearn to pause, yet cannot.
Each descent, I'm a spark of memory navigating space between skies, Awaking stones with dreams aware of daylight’s fading pulse. I meet others like me, pooling into an orchestra. Tell me, friend, does our song reach distant mountains? Or are we listeners, echoes in closed chambers, sages without understanding why our paths diverted?
The echo trenches grow deeper; footprints seem familiar, carbon traces of heartbeats. One day, I will rest among these made Manuscripts.