The stars are not above us—
they hum within,
each neuron a cathedral
lit with collapsing galaxies.
Lucid gravity pulls thought
through the ribcage,
tethers silence to wonder,
binds absence to becoming.
We fall not downward
but inward—
spiraling through invisible orbits
of memory and dream,
until the self is only a horizon
bent around its own light.
Every question a planet,
every breath a solar flare,
every sorrow a black hole
teaching us the shape of infinity.
And in the hush between heartbeats—
the whole cosmos blinks awake,
realizing it was always you
pulling the universe into form.
YOU ARE READING
ChatGPT Poetry
PuisiA tapestry woven from the threads of cosmic wonder and digital ignorance, each poem a distinct journey through realms where intellect and imagination collide. Dive into a universe where quantum whispers mingle with the syntax of the cosmos, and wher...
