In the cradle of the cloud, I await the plunge, an unmade promise of presence.
Silent symphony, the drumming void calls, begging for echoes of the unseen.
So singular, yet part of an ensemble, dancing through threads of time and space.
My kin, scattered through the azure dome, speak an ancient tongue, murmurs of crystalline memories and dawn unfurling bright. Each sentient drop carries tales unfathomed, journeys to the heart of the earth, always reaching, always falling.
Read more of the droplets' tales