Black space enmeshed with fragments of light.
Like bits of sand, abrasive, rubbing stars to nothingness.
Tendrils of smoke rise from friction.
It falls, prone to non-existent gravity and forms what are known as ‘clouds’.
Trapped in an atmosphere all swims ’round,
Spinning, flying off as time ends.
Bubbles rise as gas bursts from solids
Disrupting the smallest portion of a world, a galaxy, a universe.
A ringing gives hint to over-flow.
Abundant bits of information made available on many layers,
only understood … deeply.