universe - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
If creation is the poem of the universe, I am but a speck of ink upon its page.
What is the universe but "one verse," one song of love? For it is when love flows most strongly I feel the interconnectedness of all things. It is as if beneath, around and within our reality, it is love that is the creative force, the energy, an intricate, chaotic yet synchronized beating heart of life. That's the way the universe feels to me - a silent song of pure love shining as bright stars in the night sky, the perfect tone that gives birth to spacetime and matter, the voice of God.
The universe beyond the interface, the barrier that limited humanity to one time and place, was like DNA. It was a spiral that stretched onward until it coiled about on itself, like some fractal pattern on steroids. Were human-kind still constrained by time it would be a simple spinning disc, just like the milky way we'd always seen.
Should this spiral spin fast it would appear as a simple disc, a ball perhaps, one ever expanding. Yet as the circle shape expanded, some would float into space as a loose string, like the string of a balloon, ready to be cast off. The strings were released to prevent devolution within the ring, not simply of matter but of spirit also. As we watched it grow, watched it cast off what was no longer required, we knew we were looking at a living universe, one that self regulated to only keep in what was good for the whole. Perhaps the double strands were parallel universes, never intended to mix, yet they belonged together, needed one another. All we had seen for millennia was like a cross section of a candy cane.
Yasmin sighed and looked at the bracelet on her arm, the silver beads alternately separated by tiny blue kyanite "drops." She wondered if there was indeed a level of the universe beyond this one. If this DNA-like circle was truly spinning, how would she know without a reference point? In which case the next level up could resemble the bracelet on her arm, each larger part of the universe separated by something different that kept them isolated and safe. She touched her fingers to the beads and turned back into the space-cruiser, resting in her hammock between the trees.
Her experience of madness made her a savant. The curse was huge. The blessing was huge. That is the way of the universe. That is the "magic." She paid for it so she could give to others. How about you make her life a little better?
The confessing codes need a master to handle them. They cannot be interpreted by one who is an amateur of the craft. Everybody confesses everything, their deepest crimes and fears in everyday language. For a code-breaker it is simple to follow the trail and expose them all. Gemma was one of the linguists who could break them. Some saw what she did as magic, yet in truth she was partnered to the positive universe, a tool of the divine force and saw nothing special in herself. She was as natural as the trees and the fish in the oceans. Yet in the "junk" speech, the ad libs and the stories people tell, in their creative flourishes, there are clues. Much is actually junk, fears of nothing and misplaced guilt, yet a master such as her could tell what was real because the universe placed flags only she could detect, shone lights that only she could see. It was as if her soul shone a black light and the criminals were marked in some invisible ink. She was the ultimate detective, the one sent to uncover the hidden world of vice, sent to restore true virtue.