What we know is that things are pulled
by each other, sometimes by things we cannot see.
Dark matter, for instance, a sea of invisible particles
that fills space unevenly. It tugs on the cosmos and
holds things in place—gravitational scaffolding
for objects more luminous. Like planets. Like stars.
like earth. Like us. And dark energy, spread out
uniformly, acts as if woven into the fabric of space.
But what if it’s not just out there, they now say.
What if dark matter and dark energy is everywhere—
in me, in you—in all our cells a veritable zoo of particles
interacting, a shadow cosmos entwined with all that is. One quarter
of the universe, they say, is still a mystery we can’t access.
Today, I watched as our shadows swayed
on the ground. Observed as they merged and
turned to one. I felt the dark pull as we moved.
I am no scientist, but I know how it is
to feel all our particles turn into air
spilling darkness, blurring what’s seen
and unseen, and tugging us closer
and closer into elegant symmetries.