She thought of the great kings and the wealthy merchants who had once crossed these same plains. They had built fortresses of stone and empires of gold, believing they were eternal. But the wind had smoothed the stones of their palaces, and the soil had reclaimed their treasures.
“You were once just a drop of water,” she whispered, the lyrics of the song surfacing in her mind. She thought of the great kings and the
Elif looked at her reflection in the rippling water. She saw the lines on her face—the map of a life spent loving, grieving, and working. The song reminded her that pride was a heavy cloak that served no purpose; after all, every human begins as a humble drop and ends as a handful of dust. “You were once just a drop of water,”