James Mclain Poet Lyric

The Metric Tensor

The Distance kept its Secret well —
Till Curvature confessed —
That Space was not a level Floor
But Sloped in every Breast —

A Line once straight, grew shy of Truth
When Gravity drew near —
And Length itself forgot its Name
Where Mass had bent the Air —

The World was clothed in Indices —
Each Point in silent Dress —
With Covariant Etiquette
And Contravariant Address —

No Step could move without Consent
Of g?µ??’s Law —
For Space would weigh each Footfall’s Thought
Before it let it go —

Time stitched itself to Distance fast
In four-dimensional Thread —
And Proper Paths were whispered where
The Shortest Roads lay dead —

The Interval — a sacred Thing —
No Eye could apprehend —
Yet kept its Shape in any Frame
Observers might attend —

For Clocks would differ — Rulers lie —
Yet Still the Form remains —
Invariant beneath the Spin
Of Reference and the Brain —

Thus Geometry learned to feel
The Weight of Energy —
And Matter wrote its Biography
In Spacetime’s Calligraphy —

Where once the Plane was Euclid’s Dream
Now Manifold holds Court —
And Curves decree what Bodies do
Without a spoken Port —

So Space became a living Page
Where Stars sign every Line —
And Motion reads the Poetry
The Tensor did design.

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