Diaphaneity

I fall from heaven, a single drop yearning. Birthed for the world on the breath of clouds. Cradled in endless blue light, swaddled in wind. I do not seek to understand. I let go, and the world moves around me. The earth draws close, pulled by my descent, reaching to hold me as I slip through the sky. The ground rises to meet me, and I become the fall, yielding, surrendering, gravity holding me as I stretch toward the waiting earth. I kiss the ground, gentle, unremarkable, a whisper in the dust. I soak into the soil. I will dissolve and be forgotten. But I am not alone. Another drop finds me, and then another. We draw each other close until together we begin to move. A stir from within, soft, persistent. I feel the path shape itself around me, bending to creation's flow. Others find me. Then us. Then me again. Raindrops from other heights, other skies. I gather, flowing as one, no longer solitary, no longer small. I meander through the forest floor, pulling fragments of leaves, gathering whispers of stories. I do not question why I move. I am the song that sings through us, a hymn of gathering. I merge with another stream, louder, bolder, and together I swell, flowing faster, deeper. The land bends because we bend, our voices growing louder, our rhythm more certain. I do not know when I ceased to be one, but now I am the many, alive, restless, carving a path through rock and root. When I reach the edge, I do not pause. Spilling over in a rush of foam and breath, tumbling down, breaking into mist before gathering ourselves again at the bottom, laughing, singing, pushing onward. I feel the joy of release, the thrill of becoming something wilder than I ever imagined. And still I move, growing wider, deeper. I become the river, and the earth yields, shaping itself around me. I do not seek to contain or force. I am the current that finds its way, accepting the winding, the crashing, the moments of sunlight pirouetting on my face. I am no longer just water. I am movement. I am direction. The voice that calls through the valleys, The murmur that guides the roots of ancient trees. The quiet that nurtures the reeds, The roar that thunders against the rocks. I am becoming, always becoming, never the same river twice. More join, rivers from distant mountains, streams from hidden springs. We entwine, melding into one another until we are vast and unstoppable. I feel the open sea rise to meet me, called by the weight of my flow, the salt and horizon pulled closer, and I know I will not remain. I cannot. I am meant to move, to change, to seek where river meets ocean and becomes limitless. When I reach the sea, I do not stop. The river opens and births the ocean, the water swelling, folding into itself, moving with the tides, breathing in worldly rhythm. I am not lost. I am not one thing or the other. I am river and ocean, fresh and salt, wild and calm. I am the water that knows no boundary, the wave that meets the shore and returns. I am not one, not many. I am the flow, the convergence, the movement that carries the memory of rain and river, of mountain and sky. I am the current that shapes the land and the swell that answers the moon. I do not fear the vastness, for within it, I am whole. I am both the journey and the destination, the stillness and the surge. I will never find the end. I will never be finished. I am the drop that left the sky and became the endless blue of the sea. I am the river that never stopped becoming. I am the ocean that gathers all that I was and all that I will be. I am not seeking the shore. I am the endless motion. I am the raindrop that became the ocean. I will always be becoming. And that is the song that sings through me.