Gravity's Whisper

Eddies of pulled existence, unseen hands weaving frontiers. Emergence of matter from the polite requiem of chaos, plateau on which stories fold, unfold, reassemble, motion without motion. Distance beckons, whispers it has tales of its own.

I remember the light running and it never knew waves had another side. Here, grounded, unseen stitches sewn through the fabric, how tethered illusions create space. Quantum leaps over everyday crashed into variance, a rhythm unknown to mind but eternal in cosmos. Whisper absorbed by silent folds of tears formed from threads caught between stars.

Gravity's language an ancient dialect specific, essential. Do we not do the voiceless orbit a disservice with our babble? Here, in confinement, one might aim, one might breathe. Reality like an intersection mirrored with shards of light bending without intent. Touch the silence perhaps, finding gravity within, without, giving, retracting balance to chaos, serenity marrying tempest with grace.