# The Universe as One Verse

## A Hidden Harmony

The word "universe" whispers a quiet truth: *uni-verse*, one turned phrase, one flowing line. Imagine the cosmos not as scattered stars and endless voids, but as a single, unfolding poem. Every galaxy spins a syllable, every breath we take adds a gentle rhythm. On this winter day in 2025, with frost tracing windowpanes, it's easier to sense this weave—how a distant quasar's light, traveling billions of years, meets the steam from my morning tea.

## Our Lines in the Poem

We each contribute a verse, brief and unpolished. A child's laugh in the snow. A hand extended to a stranger. These aren't grand stanzas but honest words that echo through the whole. No need for fame or perfection; the poem thrives on ordinary turns. When I walk under bare branches, I feel my steps aligning with the wind's murmur, part of something vast yet intimate.

## Listening Between the Lines

Pause amid the rush. Sit with a notebook, let thoughts settle like fresh powder. What verse are you writing today? Not to force meaning, but to notice it— in the curve of a river, the pause before dawn. This unity invites calm: we're never alone, just threads in the same gentle song.

*In every breath, the poem continues.*