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Einstein Rosenberg Bridge
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 we trust—what if they lie?
And stars are tunnels in the sky?
Where would it lead, this bridge we name,
From here to there, through flame or frame?
Perhaps to you, or somewhere free—
A loop in space, where I might be
Not bound by now, but yet—to be.
Copyright ©
James Mclain
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