Mounds of soil tremble in recognition as first my heel then the sole and last the toes of my feet press onto them – they carry my weight as though they carry their child – their children are bleeding back into the dust from whence they came – waves of gravity soar one after the other in a crescendo of space colliding with space – after a while Einstein puts down his bow and whistles the harmony – for a hundred years the heat rises, the soil becomes darker, the notes more discordant till the woodwind run out of breath – there is a single note left rumbling in the ground, an echo from the beginning – the stars tremble in recognition.
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