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A recorded reading of “Gravity’s Garden”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
In the hush between heartbeat and breath, a stem uncoils— not toward sun, but toward the curve of its own dreaming. Pearled fruits dangle from threads of thought— red as a whispered secret warmed in the palm, blue as sky held underwater, gold as memory catching fire in the dark. The air is thick with waiting. A teardrop seed listens for the rumor of rain, while smaller stones—warm with remembering— scatter like crumbs for wandering light to find its way back home. Roots do not touch earth here; they drift in a patient dance, looping infinity into a delicate snare, catching the moment— then teaching it how to fly.
Lyrics
In the hush… between heartbeat and breath A stem uncoils— Not toward the sun… But toward the curve of its own dreaming… Pearled fruits dangle from threads of thought Red as a whispered secret, warm in the palm Blue as sky, held underwater Gold as memory, catching fire in the dark (In Gravity’s garden, the roots drift free) (In Gravity’s garden, the moments learn to fly) No ground, no sky—just the hush between The breath you take… and the dream that dreams you back The air is thick… with waiting A teardrop seed listens for the rumor of rain Smaller stones, warm with remembering Scatter like crumbs for wandering light To find its way back home Roots loop infinity into delicate snares Catching the moment, then setting it free A slow-turn waltz with the weightless hours In a garden where nothing falls (In Gravity’s garden, the roots drift free) (In Gravity’s garden, the moments learn to fly) No ground, no sky—just the hush between The breath you take… and the dream that dreams you back And the dream that dreams… you back…
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