[Intro] Twelve small fires in the tissue of the world No body leaves the room Yet their relations draw a shape The mind can almost hear [Verse 1] One point, a seed with nowhere else to be Two make a line: a first adjacency Three lift a face beyond the thread of two Four pierce the plane; a room of corners blooms Not farther through the flesh, not higher in the sky A dimension counts the ways the parts align [Pre-Chorus] Vertex by vertex, relation takes its form A map of possible passage in the storm [Chorus] Twelve voices, eleven doors No extra heavens in the floor Every arrow chooses where the message flows Source to sink, the hidden river knows Fold the shared edges, let the pattern start A cosmos of connection, not a body torn apart [Verse 2] A directed clique: each pair has a way A source sends outward; a sink receives the day Not every road is destiny or law But ordered paths reveal what links can draw When neighboring rhythms gather into time Their rising correlation leaves a sign The whole can speak in measures pairwise cannot tell A chorus made of routes, a living graph-cell [Pre-Chorus] A neuron wears a hundred overlapping names One shared face, then another, then the frame [Chorus] Twelve voices, eleven doors No extra heavens in the floor Every arrow chooses where the message flows Source to sink, the hidden river knows Fold the shared edges, let the pattern start A cosmos of connection, not a body torn apart [Bridge] Join along the parts that meet Cavities open, close, repeat Cliques assemble, then unwind A changing architecture of the mind Available wiring, sleeping in the deep And patterns of activity that wake and leave [Call and Response] What is the shape? — A relation Where does it live? — In connection What is a dimension? — A count of form Not another room beyond the storm [Final Chorus] Twelve voices, eleven doors The tissue keeps its earthly shores Yet abstract shapes can hold a wider view Of how a many-body pattern moves through Below, above, the mind may dream in bands But metaphor is not a map of measured lands Bring polarity into one embodied art Let difference find its balance in the heart [Outro] Point to line, and line to face Shared edges hold a meeting place Twelve voices, one design The shape is made between the signs
