Gravity and Dark Flow Pushing against the Nothingness

Gravity and Dark Flow Pushing against the Nothingness

L. Edgar Otto     18 September, 2013

I evolve and climb up on the beach so feel the heaviness
pushing down on me, far from the freedom in all directions
weightless in the sea.

Gravity, its flow and direction plus some change of colors and flavors, the seemingly unbroken gel of water, sand that gets into everywhere, and the sting of salt.

Overall and universally constrained in unity or some local knotty line thru space, gravity may make a world of layers that its boundless formal cause will quantum-ize as much as we fancy she needs to be to distinguish the hearts and seeds of cells and atoms, of flowers.

As if an indefinite dream outside and independent of the motes of matter and self sustaining rolling waves its reach seeks everywhere in the twilight state of indefinite Being pushing on the illusion of solid ground it too illusion, against the Nothingness.

But she that cradles all can tunnel thru the shells and layers, bring to our choices of endless arrays of dominoes her source of endless touch in fall.

She is cloaked by our imaginations as some turn away from watching too close the heat of her naked singularity.

Her belly dance and bells and Doppler shifts of time only the long lived mayflies in their long life time can hear or see ride the loops in circles floating on the waves its center fixed.

She can sunbathe inside the hole of an inter tube in perfect calm against the crashing seasick rocking of the sea. Only from her view there's nothing in between infinities reached as proven or not provable as she.

So independent and indefinite, her matrix a change of mind sharp her intuition beyond her ballet spins or ice sheet toe picks, to the music judged by numbers the reentry and ritual of her half whimsical dreams.

Her vision beyond the insight of higher things half free in symmetry or branches broken, a weaver of knots of ropes and strings in the natural dimensions as she mediates a trinity of persons different yet the same, finds higher bed sheets of knots and one sided arguments that snap until the work of her fingers misstep and rewind.

Her dance to feed the molten core of worlds and stars, galaxies with bars can appear reverse in retrograde. In her dreamy ether no speed of light finds certain measure nor does it change yet she can fold things in dimensions far beyond our few of time and fate and narrow shadows reduced in n-ply reentry to condense shapes Platonic.

Such is her non-necessity that we may conceive and be convinced of those that tenably can be the exception save like her not directly observable nor provable the symmetry or asymmetry of up and down as principle aside.

Somewhere in my dream the weight of the world grew heavier and heavier as if I were moved slowly from the moon to Jupiter.  I could not move too far and eventually had to stay where I was, lay prone on a bench as did M'Lady we holding hands against the shrinking world reclaimed by the pole of night.

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