Everything is a language
not spoken, not bound by tongues..
A logical song humming
from the womb of possibilities,
a picture painted
without brush or hand.
Vision is the echo
of imagination’s polarity
its mirror, its opposite charge
light bending where thought begins,
where silence writes in sparks.
Everything is nothingness.
No explosion, no beginning
only a portal that flickers
for the span of a heartbeat.
A spark, brief as breath,
dissolving into the next,
and the next,
and the next…
We are the witnesses,
standing at the edge
of an infinite horizon.
Each word—a world,
a new universe unfolding.
Your belief—your reality.
Your gaze—a kindling.
We are the dream,
and the dreamer,
and the space between.
To observe is to birth light.
Light reveals an event
yet the irony of its magic
is that we only see the shadow,
the negative of the film.
The true picture
is not for eyes alone.
It is the hum beneath the skin,
the echo after the note,
the shape of the amorphous
between the stars.
