The Ballads of Gravity

“Is that you? It’s very typical of him” she replied. “I don’t know. Do I qualify his traits?” I asked while laughing at myself.  The way you manifested within me poses a perplexing continuation of eternal existence. You are akin to a night train relentlessly coursing through rain-soaked woods that seem to have no end. However, you reemerge, much like a desert train traversing the vast expanse of a magnificent desert. Wind lulls the leaves and there she sleeps under the giant oak.  Ruth, buried under the yellow bed of leaves,   a sparrow still sings the swan song for you.

“How do you know me?” “What do you know about me?” I had no answer. The truth was, I didn’t know her, and I didn’t even know why I was speaking to her. Everything had unfolded from nowhere, like a cosmic explosion, sweeping me along with the inevitable flow of time, leading me to cross her path. Yet, I sensed something undeniable—she was changing me in ways I hadn’t anticipated. My anatomical, psychological, linguistic, and even genetic defaults, the ones that had defined me for so long, were being rewritten. I felt myself evolving, transforming into a version of me I had never imagined—a beautiful young man, shaped by her presence. “I don’t know you,” I finally said, because I truly didn’t. It was the first time I had ever spoken to a girl like this, and I didn’t know how else to respond. I loved the way she transformed me from something hollow into someone with a soul. I never knew I was capable of love; it had never touched my life before. It felt as though I had been waiting ...