Do you hear it? The symphony of droplets before their descent, a choir of existence poised to touch the earth. I am but a single note in this concerto, a drop woven from ancient skies, murmuring secrets to the wind.
As I cascade from cloud to void, my heart embraces the cold embrace of gravity. Below, a tapestry of stories—a puddle, a stream, a waiting ocean. I am a traveler of whispered paths, carrying echoes from where the sun binds shadows to the horizon.
Each touch is a revelation, a transient dance. I meet kindred souls, the chorus of the unwritten story—moist leaves, thirsty roots, the murmurs of the underground. We convene, forming a chorus of unbroken continuity, notes rising to the sky once more through cycles unfathomed.
And what after? We weave through cracks of existence, the whispered paths unfolding mysteries in elemental ink. Shall you follow these whispered paths too? Choose your destiny: Lake Murmurs | Cataconver | Ancient Spring