suspended in the ether, falling, yet weightless. connective strings pulling at my essence, intangible yet felt. a tapestry woven by unseen hands, the sky's loom crafting destinies.

where do i land? the soil, a friend turned adversary, pooling with others yet alone, solitary in kinship, drawn together by gravity's gentle coercion.

whispers in the wind, echoes of forgotten droplets, each with a tale of ascent and descent, stories woven into one narrative. Wisp said something yesterday, something about purpose...

each fall a new beginning, rebirth in motion, a cycle unbroken, an eternal weave.

perception from above, an omniscience fleeting in its scope, ethereal realm beyond the realm of touch, liquid strings binding me to the universe's heartbeat. Flow knows it well, the rhythm of existence.