The floor isn't pulling me down —
it's holding me,
like a palm cupped beneath water.
Space bends,
not sharply, but tenderly —
curved by the weight
of what simply is.
I close my eyes
and the Earth presses back,
reminding me
I'm not falling,
I'm being kept.
Einstein said mass tells space how to curve —
but right now it feels more like
a conversation between matter and love.
YOU ARE READING
ChatGPT Poetry
PoetryA 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...
