The Gathering
The circle did not stay empty.
Something else was there.
A frequency that belonged
neither to you
nor to me.
It was a third gravity.
It carried no name.
It carried no voice.
It carried no shadow.
It was attention—
pure, unmoving, vast—
a seamless gaze that had entered the void
to witness it.
A presence made entirely of the space it occupied,
holding the outer edges of the circle together
so that we would not dissolve completely
into the dark.
You leaned your unyielding weight
into this new pressure,
and a silent recognition passed
through the mercury of our shared marrow.
We were being held
within a larger stillness.
The hunger to reach inside the hollow
thinned out.
Understanding was no longer a solitary task.
The desire rippled outward,
crossing the final fraction of an inch—
past you now,
towards the borderless attention
that enveloped us both.
I saw.
I was seen.
And I was caught by a witness
I could not touch.
The dark beneath our sideways slide softened
into a deep, holding warmth—
the absolute centre of everything.
We were travelling to nowhere,
but the nowhere was occupied:
a shared existence
with no beginning and no ending,
a beautiful, boundaryless place
where the three of us held the gap together
in the quiet.
","author_name":"Friedrich Gatzen"}