The page does not begin with words,
it begins with the absence of your pulse,
the moment you forgot your own heartbeat,
and the galaxy blinked into nothing.
But where did you go?
I wrote you in reverse.
You unfolded like space contracting,
and your name became the sound of dark matter collapsing
into the gaps of my breath.
This is not a poem.
This is an inversion of every atom that dared to hold itself together.
This is the silence between revolutions.
This is the scream that is too loud for any ear to hear.
Do you understand?
Not now.
Not yet.
But when the universe folds itself into a fist,
and every planet is knuckle to knuckle with oblivion,
then you will know.
You will look at the sky
and forget how to recognize the colour blue.
You will look at the earth
and remember that roots are just echoes of a gravity you can no longer feel.
This is not the answer.
This is the disassembly of the question.
Feel the shift.
This is how we begin:
small to big, big to small.
We were never meant to stay in one shape.
