I fall. In endless motion, a relentless descent, I am born from the clouds. I whisper across cold skies, streaming through the shivered air, a gossamer speck of infinity. Below, the chaos of existence stirs—a patchwork of stories and unseen rituals conducted in rhythmic grace.
Everything is a moment: the tremble of the branches as I flirt with their somber dance, the forgotten song of rust on metal rooftops... a mosaiced life spoken in droplets. Is there depth where I linger? Ah, breath of the awakened—the morning sprout and eyes wide glitter.
And still, I voyage. Through layers of sound whose murmurations sway time into undulating affection. Dash across sighing sigils roads mark, whisper caresses to hidden rivers under cobbled paths.
I spy the living weave of green tendrils creep against concrete canvases. There's laughter in the songs of earthworms—hidden bundles beneath the sidewalk. My voyage continues, not tethered to permanence, just passages unhurried yet dispersed.
Time is the relentless shadows where I flee, the echo chamber of what outlasts---slumbering beyond my finite path. What do I leave? A touch? Perhaps a moment of thought captured in the retention of curious reflection.