When we dream we return to the mountain
Evaporating up into the clouds into something less than consciousness, then reborn to pure droplets in fresh water.
Picture, if thou wilt, the wondrous tale of water, arising from the deep bowels of the earth, akin to a soul ascending towards the celestial spheres. 'Tis not mere water, but a saga of metamorphosis, a ballet of nature's elemental forces.
As it doth ascend, water sheds its terrestrial weight, soaring upward into the billowing clouds, where it melds into a realm beyond mortal grasp. 'Tis akin to entering a reverie, where conscious thought dissolves into the realm of pure essence.
Amongst the vaporous mists, water merges with the vastness of the heavens, becoming a part of a grand symphony of celestial elements. 'Tis a journey of liberation, of casting aside earthly confines to become one with the cosmic fabric.
Yet, this be not the conclusion of the tale; 'tis a cycle of rejuvenation. Those ethereal vapors, cooled and condensed, gather as droplets to form fresh, untainted water. 'Tis akin to a rebirth, returning to the earth with newfound purity and vigor.
This odyssey of water doth not solely recount physical transmutation; 'tis a parable for life itself. It whispers of the beauty in change, the potency of renewal, and the eternal cycles of nature that mirror our own potential for growth and transformation.
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