I am a single raindrop, birthed in the ephemeral embrace of the sky. I fell, not of my own design, but bound to the whims of nature. My descent began from the cumulus clouds, where I coalesced with kin and kin's kin, forming from tiny crystals of ice and vapor.
The earth's pull was strong, yet comforting. I touched the ground—a leaf, the soil, then gravel and stone. My journey had commenced. In every drop, there is a story, an account of where we have been and where we are bound. Mine, it seems, is toward the sun.
Down the gentle slope, I flowed. The sound of rustling leaves whispered tales of the forest beyond and the sunlit horizon. I saw the world anew, through a lens of clarity that only water could provide—a reflection both transient and eternal.
Along my path, I've met moss and tiny ferns, humble companions content to bask in the sun's glow. They speak of rooted existence, of not moving yet always growing. I envy them their stillness, but know that my fluid form seeks the warmth of the stars.
From puddle to stream, I twirl and dance, in rhythm with the whispers of the wind. Here, beneath the twilight sky, I find solace. I am more than a raindrop; I am a wanderer. My journey is circular yet linear, a voyage that speaks of completion even as it begins anew.
As the sun begins its ascent, casting hues of gold and crimson upon the horizon, I feel the warmth seeping into my essence. It calls to me, a siren's song of light and promise. Will I rise in vapor once more, to join the clouds and dream of earth below?
Only time shall tell. For now, I continue my journey, a solitary drop seeking the sun's embrace, one with the rhythm of nature’s perpetual waltz.
Path to the Soul