In a quiet village, under the soft glow of the moonlight, a wanderer encountered an old sage who shared a cryptic message: "He who has no reflection has lost his way." The wanderer pondered these words as he continued his journey.

As night fell, he paused by a still pond, cradling a bowl of water. He whispered a prayer to the most high, yearning to be part of something greater than himself. "Let me be a vessel for the collective, a humble servant of the grand design," he murmured.

Suddenly, as his words faded into the night, his reflection in the water began to waver, then disappeared entirely. He stared at the empty surface, realizing he had become one with the night, a part of the infinite. Looking up to the heavens, he gave thanks for the transformation, for the gift of losing himself to find a greater truth. As he did, a single raindrop fell from the sky, landing gently on his forehead, marking him as a seeker who had embraced the path beyond individuality.