I awaken in a cloud, floating softly among my kin. We are particles of promise, suspended in white expanse, waiting for the moment of descent.
Today, the sky is overcast, a comforting gray that cradles us tightly. I feel the gentle nudges of my neighbors, their spirits full of stories untold.

As I begin to fall, I see the world below—a tapestry of green and brown, stitched together with threads of asphalt and stories of passing lives. The whisper of wind caresses me, and for a moment, time stretches infinitely, filled with possibility. I am drawn to the warmth of earth, to the soil that craves my touch.

I land upon a leaf, its surface large and welcoming. I collect with others, forming a pool of memories beneath a larger canopy. Together, we listen to the drum of rain on raindrop, each beat a reminder of home.
We share the echoes of lost voices, the sounds of laughter and dreams, dreams broken and mended.

Visit the Symphony of Whispers where silences speak louder than words.
Or perhaps you'd prefer the Drum of Fall, a chronicle of the seasons and their secrets.

Each drop carries a story, a history of journeys and longing. We are echoes in the wind, resonating with the heartbeats of time. I am just one of many, but my tale is uniquely woven into the vast, intricate narrative of existence.