The One Beneath Our Feet

Out in the huge black, among cold stars and countless silence, there is a place wherever gentle touches rock, where oceans breathe, and where air hums with the memory of trees.

It revolves alone — perhaps not loudly, not easily — but with a beat older than time. Mountains rise from buried fire. Woods grow skyward, consuming from neglected Planet. Beneath earth, roots perspective through layers of history, pressing bones and techniques extended since considered dust.

Nothing otherwise we've seen holds rivers that recall glaciers, winds that remember the design of continents, or skies that once bore the fat of thunder untouched by names.

Here, life discovered to examine from water.

Here, shade was born.

Here, silence is never empty.

We speak of planning elsewhere, of obtaining another, of achieving beyond. But in all of the strong exploring, atlanta divorce attorneys signal sent into the gap, we've found only silence. Number answer. No echo.

Only that earth responds.

Only that place sustains.

Just this soil welcomes the design of our footsteps.

Once, we offered it a name — an individual term to put on their weight.

But titles are not enough.

This is actually the keeper of every breath, every memory, every birth we have actually known.

There may be others.

But we've only that one.