# One Verse

## The Hidden Harmony in "Universe"

The word "universe" breaks into "uni" and "verse"—one turning, one song. Imagine the cosmos not as scattered stars but a single, unfolding poem. Every galaxy spins a stanza, every breath a syllable. On this quiet morning in 2026, with frost tracing windowpanes, I sit and feel it: we're not separate readers but threads woven into the page. This isn't grand theory; it's a gentle nudge to see connection where chaos seems to rule.

## Ripples from a Single Line

Picture a pond at dawn. One pebble dropped sends circles outward, touching distant shores. Our lives echo this. A kind word to a stranger alters their afternoon, which shapes their evening call home. In the verse, no action stands alone:
- A child's laugh merges with wind through leaves.
- A shared meal binds hands across tables.
- Silent stars witness our quiet hopes.

These aren't coincidences but the poem's rhythm, reminding us that small turns matter in the whole.

## Adding Our Measure

We don't just inhabit this verse; we co-author it. Each choice—pausing to listen, forgiving a slight—adds a line. No need for eloquence; sincerity suffices. As days stack like pages, the universe grows richer, turning toward light. In 2026's steady hum of progress and pause, this feels vital: live deliberately, verse by verse.

*In the end, the poem is ours to soften or sharpen—one breath at a time.*