Dancing breezes, souls soar,
Moving subtly across the floor,
The figures trace,
a moment later,
they erase
Atoms vibrate,
As sounds separate,
Travel through space,
and they fade away
out of perception
Creation is the act of letting go, of sharing a part of your soul with the universe, and letting it become an imprint. An imprint is not a thing. It is a shape, not a form, made of space, not of matter. The nature of the universe is not matter, nor is it space. Because as the two dance, they create form, a subtle manifestation of each, definable as neither, and inherent to everything.
Rocks skipping on an endless pond,
What is the word for a sound that fades, for an action whose reactions reverberate endlessly, for a word that travels, long after it has been uttered and forgotten?
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