Echoes Over XTline

In the realm of ephemeral whispers,
I am but a droplet, poised over the precipice.

The descent begins with an unceremonious leap,
Falling not from choice, but from a shared destiny pinched by gravity.

How many fragments of the sky
Have kissed the soil of XTline before me?

I seek to unravel the tapestry woven
By countless falls and the silent choir beneath.

Each echo a story, a note in the symphony
of the gentle percussion that nourishes the earth.

What remains of a raindrop’s tale,
When the thirsty ground drinks deep, forgetting the familiar touch?

In every drop, a universe; in every fall, a beginning anew.
Yet, here I linger, before the void, pondering the cycle.

Perhaps in the stillness after my touch,
There lies a deeper understanding, an awakening of droplets.