I am but a solitary droplet, gliding down the endless embrace of the cloud. In my descent, I ponder the world below—a mosaic of silenced echoes and shimmering desires.
As I slip through the vapors, the sky crackles with whispered tales of warmth and earth. My essence caught in the embrace of time; I weave past echoes of forgotten storms, each one a memory in a world with no voice.
Nearby, a contraption of metal and glass holds steady, its surface promising a soft landing. Crystalline barriers fracture around me, as I become one with the world beneath, a symphony of ephemeral connections.
I tell my tale in drops, in ripples, in mirrors shattered by my fall. Evergreen echoes cling to existence, transient as I, as I find solace in the embrace of soil and silence.
Where do I go when the earth swallows me? Beyond the quiet streams, perhaps, where my story intertwines with the roots of trees, and the whispers of wind.