Stop. Hold the phone, hold the bone, hold the bone-line. You’re crying: „Out of power, out of battery, out of time!“ You’re whining: „I am empty, I am spent, I am bent, I am done, My engine hit the bottom, got a zero-volume-sum!“ Hold your horses, little human, that’s a neuro-logic glitch! You’re not empty, you’re just messy in your internal switch! Look at your shoe, look at your toe, look at your shadow-glow: There is no empty in the cosmos-show! You are a box of bouncing capacity, Trapped in a cage of constant-mass capacity! Tick-tack, flip-flap, physical law! The universe never had a leak in its jaw! No dripping, no dropping, no popping a seam, It’s a locked piggy-bank in a zero-sum dream! First Law! Constant! The ledger is tight! You can’t invent a single spark in the night! It transforms! It morphs! It wears a disguise! It jumps from your breakfast right into your eyes! No creation, no deletion, no escape through the door, Just the exact same energy forever-more-more! Look at the sandwich. A innocent, quiet slice. Sunlight hit the wheat field once, twice, thrice. Photons popping on the stalk, turning light into dough, Dough going down the hatch—woah, where does it go? You chew it, you mash it, you flash-burn the fuel, It morphs to a thought! An emotion! A rule! A tiny wave of anger cause a stranger kicked your shoe That anger was a sunbeam wearing a bad attitude! Your bad mood is solar-power wrapped in a coat, A five-million-year-old photon stuck in your throat! And where does the sound go when you scream at the wall? Does the scream just vanish in the air of the hall? No! The air-molecules jiggle-wiggle-shake, The atomic wallpaper starts to wake! The plaster gets a micro-degree warmer in the dark, Your existential breakdown just left a thermal mark! You didn’t waste power, you decorated the room With invisible, wiggling, kinetic perfume! It’s a loop! A spin! A perpetual dance! Where does the outside stop and the inside stance? First Law! Constant! The ledger is tight! You can’t invent a single spark in the night! It transforms! It morphs! It wears a disguise! It jumps from your breakfast right into your eyes! No creation, no deletion, no escape through the door, Just the exact same energy forever-more-more! Look at your thumb. It’s not a thing. It’s a temporary bend. A knot in a rope without a start or an end. The electricity typing on your telephone screen Was once a volcano, a storm, a machine, A prehistoric wave crashing wild on the beach Now it’s muscle-twitch-motion trying to reach. You aren’t a person holding power in your frame... You ARE the energy playing the human-being-game! So when your bio-clock ticks to the final "Game Over", Don’t panic-mechanize, don’t hide in the clover! You don’t evaporate, you don’t get erased, You get re-allocated, re-located, re-spaced! Your body-heat warms up the moss on the stone, Your momentum makes a hummingbird fly on its own, You get rented by a tree, you get borrowed by the rain, You’re the static-hum-whisper on a radio-plane! It’s the ultimate recycling-scheme of the void, Nothing destroyed, just endlessly re-employed! You’re a cosmic shape-shifter in a biological boot, A lightning-bolt disguised as a suit! So stop calling yourself tired, stop calling yourself drained Your physical currency completely remained! Nothing is added. Nothing is lost. The cosmos doesn't care what a new shape cost. You are a 13.8-billion-year-old explosion... currently pretending to be someone who needs a nap. The circuit stays closed.
