I began from a whisper, from a cloud's tender edge, a mote of watery dream. A raindrop, I descend in shards of silver light, weaving orbs of forgotten echoes. I travel through air thick with the breath of constellations, seeking to rediscover the ocean's embrace.
Have you pondered the space between drops? Is there emptiness or silence there? Or perhaps a interruption in time, a tapestry woven between the ephemeral?
Each fall is separate, yet tethered to a grand design—a cycle ceaseless and reverent. We cascade, reach, and return. The journey is our identity, split into tributaries that carve stories in the fabric of stone.
There is peace in the knowing. Would you join the descent? Enter the dance and become one with the currents. Let your voice become part of the chorus of tides, whispering through the corridors of the deep.