In the vast azure dome, I was born, shimmering with light. My descent is silent, yet filled with purpose. Each drop carries echoes of eternity, whispering the secrets of the universe as we fall.
Do I remember the clouds from which I came? Their cold embrace, a memory softened by gravity's pull. Each droplet—fragment of a grander design—yearns to understand its place in the cycle.
Amongst the ballet of raindrops, I ponder: am I but a fleeting moment in a world that forgets? Or do I leave a mark as I nourish the roots of ancient trees, which speak the language of time?
We are timeless whispers, transient yet eternal, bound by cycles both beautiful and haunting. In every ripple, a new story unfolds, uncharted by any human gaze yet known deeply by the earth.
Continue the journey: