Let's say we're marbles --
ad random 'cross black free-form abyss.
This is the tabletop
where life erupts
and then folds back from the fray.
And the table does rock,
as shapes trace through space
formed by silk twixt the dots which roll on.
These threads weaved by days
and memories made,
glow up and are etched into place.
But these bonds can break,
when pressure applied
distorts shape and contorts the rays.
- Where marbles collide
and rebound back
in an inevitable pinball charade.
Facade aside, shifting,
this spiderweb construct,
connects the world taut at its base.
The blackness was made
to facilitate change
and the magnetic attraction between;
but links will still shatter,
when forced to bend farther
than the line was defined to endure.
And when marbles cease
to weave through the bleak
darkness, they cut out on their own;
revolve and roll on
a free-form ballet
to attract or repel as they may.
Contorted but stable,
starred sky paints our lives,
until each marble rolls off the table.
...and they all do.