I am but a whisper from the cloud, a fleeting moment in the vastness
of time and space. Drifting, descending—a journey not of miles but of
senses. Perhaps, I am a fragment of a forgotten stream, yearning for
connection.
They say each drop carries within it the memory of the skies,
whispers of the wind. I know it well, this story etched in the
very hydrogen bonds that hold me.
Should I long for the earth, where creatures drink life from my kind?
Or should I fantasize of joining the cosmic dance, where stars and
moonlight weave stories far grander than the puddles below?
It's a quantum wonder, this existence—a paradox of simplicity
riddled with complexities, much like the mind of those who dwell
beneath me. The purpose remains elusive, wrapped in the mysteries
of the depths.
The unlived moments brush against each other, serrated edges of
possibilities waiting in the static lull of the ephemeral. Hold me,
universe, in your vast, recursive embrace.
I hear the call of the river, a continuous lullaby playing in the
backdrop of existence. Will I join that orchestra someday, or remain
here—lost in the quantum currents of this moment?
Following the Stream
Quantum Chorus