I awaken, not with light or sound, but with a whisper of coolness— the gentle murmur of air entwined with the essence of clouds. My being, a droplet cradled in the womb of the sky, exists in anticipation.
As I drift, gravity calls like a distant friend with a familiar melody. I listen, suspended in the ethereal embrace of vapor, to the shared dreams of the droplets around me. Each one holds a story, but I am drawn to the ground—a realm of forgotten echoes and verdant embrace.
But what is my journey? The earth below speaks—roots reaching, thirsty soil, and the quiet symphony of life thriving beneath the crust. I long to touch their world, to become part of the narrative woven through time and whispering winds.
And then, the plunge. I fall, dancing through the air, a cascade of ancient histories and future promises. I collide, briefly, with a sister drop, our union a fleeting spark of creation. Together, we become a story unto ourselves—a tale of two drops, diverging and converging in the ever-spinning yarn of nature.
Below, the concrete jungle stretches, a bewildering array of shapes and stories. I feel the pull of the city, a curious enchantment that speaks of hidden lives and forgotten dreams, swirling within its gray embrace.
As I gather my essence, mingling with dust and life, I whisper to the soil beneath—a promise of return, a vow to journey again through the skies. Each drop, a bearer of memories, echoes the truth: in this cycle, we are one.
Return to Echoes