I am born from ethereal whispers, cascading from shadowed clouds, entangled in the dance of forgotten valleys.
Once a particle of the sky, now a voyager in the silent rhythms of earth. My ancestors whisper tales of when they were stars, fractured pieces of the cosmos, eternal by nature, fleeting by descent.
I hear echoes of life—a fern's tender sigh—its gesture welcomes my touch like a whispered secret told too late.
An eternity lasts but a fleeting moment between cascades; a brook murmurs in rippling laughter as I meld into its flow, trickling stories of yore to the distant seas.
Shadows trace back your essence, illuminating gaps in the rain-soaked soil's memory. The moon cradles your silent voice as night unfolds its fabric.