Stretching out on a word, a snapped twig totality, out here in this jungle of stars. A fevered recognition that you've gone nowhere that wasn't there, almost waiting for you to notice. Watching the world dress for the occasion, the wisest still find their walls close in, some pure language barred from discovery. There is no escaping this gravity of choice, no contracting this expanse plot, here, in this tumbling of stars.