Empty Space

Pixels fall like flakes of snow, but do not melt. ‘Clutter’, they seem to spell. Fill, they seem to whisper. Who knew those little specks which humans once tried to liken to stars—but they are not stars, for stars do not fetter, do not fill all empty space—could speak? They are incredibly loud and they are everywhere. Dust motes no longer dance for there is no space. Sunlight seems effervescent, yes, scattering over shining screens—but tidepools of rainwater where grasses used to sway have dried. Empty space. Our worlds were built on empty space. There is no breathing room without empty space. Were the whole sky truly filled with stars, we would all burn. So leave some room for empty space, the world seems to plead. Silence a song so silence can fill your ears with the music of the stars. A world can still be built from empty space.