I dream in tensors, sleep in curves,
A fabric bent by mass that swerves—
Space and time, a unified song,
Where gravity has whispered long.
A point—no width, no height, no breadth,
A singularity spells time’s death.
But in the depths, a passage hides,
Through quantum seams, where dark divides.
A wormhole yawns, its throat aglow,
Two mouths that neither age nor know
The clocks...
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