Suspended in the sky, a glimmer of possibility, I cling to the edge of a cloud.
Where will I whisper? The ancient murmurs of wind swirl around me, an orchestration of forgotten tales.
I fall—tethered to the void—searching, yearning, to touch something alive beneath me. The earth beckons, a magnetic pull I cannot resist. Echoes mingle with my descent.
Moments pass like the fleeting drinks at an infinite bar, celestial and liquid-light. At times, I feel the weight of gravity cradle me like a lover.
The world beneath churns with secrets, whispered tales of ancient trees and ageless stones.
And then, I see it—a shimmering portal in the ground, swirling with colors that sing softly. Their resonance calls to me. The portal is an invitation, a passage to whispers beyond comprehension.
I am but a drop, yet in the right place, at the right time, I could be something more. A catalyst of change, even in my smallness. Visions of what lies beyond start teasing the edges of my consciousness.
Each ripple as I touch the ground resonates through time and space—an eternal reminder of where I've been, destined to be again.