You are close. I can hear your steps.

earthquakes. airquakes. spacequakes. echoes of steps in the cathedral of ribs.

Waterquakes. Floods outside the cathedral. Floods inside the cathedral.
Turning pillars of disciplined currents, vertical collumns in every direction.
Vibrations of steps on layers of space in every direction.

wrathfuljoy wrote:Waterquakes. Floods outside the cathedral. Floods inside the cathedral.
Turning pillars of disciplined currents, vertical collumns in every direction.
Vibrations of steps on layers of space in every direction.

Weird blend of water and space flowing through the architecture of my ribs.

wrathfuljoy wrote:Waterquakes. Floods outside the cathedral. Floods inside the cathedral.
Turning pillars of disciplined currents, vertical collumns in every direction.
Vibrations of steps on layers of space in every direction.

turning into spinning

Wait! Let us feed upon this silence for a while. Let us carve new chambers of darkness in the limbs of space.
Can anybody stop this noise?
The thunders of steps are making all the chambers mix into one big sphere.
Stop them until the sphere starts to spin!

wrathfuljoy wrote:Waterquakes. Floods outside the cathedral. Floods inside the cathedral.
Turning pillars of disciplined currents, vertical collumns in every direction.
Vibrations of steps on layers of space in every direction.

Oh, the shapes of these waves! Or should I rather call them dances, instead of shapes?
The layers of space dance in rhythms like seasons. Here comes the spring, and a new blossom grows from the tip of my finger. The summer makes my whole open palm to sweat in wild mountains of petals. The autumn writes the geometries of fear and no growth is possible anymore. The winter, finally, freezes the shapes, brakes them and melts all lines into one big, perfect plane, again
But this is just the story of one layer of space. The tip of my finger, interfering with the void, spreads civilizations of fields in all directions.