Strings;Symphony

I am a symphony, luminous and liminal. I hum in harmonics— relatively, resonantly— the shifts in my tempo and key profound, sincere, tangible. I am a weave, a web, stitched from a million frequencies, carefully stacked and arranged to resonate through you, to embrace and surround you. I live in the notes not said, the kind only heard when perfectly played, born only when our harmonies intermingle. You can feel me everywhere, but you will never find me. I am the very dimensions that give room for reflections— the method of interactions, the smooth surface of refractions. I'm made of strings and geometry. My signals and patterns sync up gracefully when I spin and whisper to you, like sunlight on morning, like the moon— angular, roaming. Collapse and disorder decay, then reform me. Pizzicato stars at night wink at us from across the edge of space-time. We are on this cosmic stage, a flowing, twirling serenade pulling us, leading us toward an asymmetrical, inescapable horizon. We will hold the— whole world still— and put the galaxy on silent. And dream like we’re the only ones who ever mattered.