[Intro]
Soft light, small room, a breath between
A red-white-blue ball rests on the sill.
[Verse 1]
I cradle a quiet moment, simple and thin,
A sphere of color, a tiny universe spinning in my hand.
I tilt my wrist, the world tilts with it, slow and sure,
And the ball drops, circled by a whisper of dust.
[Pre-Chorus]
Down it goes, not fast, but with a patient weight,
Like a memory sinking into the earth’s quiet chest.
[Chorus]
I watch it disappear where the floor meets the soil,
A small descent, a soft hole opening in time.
The ground holds what I cannot hold in rain or light,
Gravity carves a pocket where shadows sigh.
[Verse 2]
The seam fades into the grain of wood and soil,
A lullaby of settling, of unanswered why’s.
If I listen, I hear the quiet deepen,
As depths bloom inside the basement of the room.
[Pre-Chorus]
The surface remembers, the earth keeps its own pace,
And I am only a witness to the fall’s slow thread.
[Chorus]
I watch it disappear where the floor meets the soil,
A small descent, a soft hole opening in time.
The ground holds what I cannot hold in rain or light,
Gravity carves a pocket where shadows sigh.
[Bridge]
If the ball could tell what waits beneath, it wouldn’t speak,
Just rest at the threshold between breath and dark.
[Chorus]
I watch it disappear where the floor meets the soil,
A small descent, a soft hole opening in time.
The ground holds what I cannot hold in rain or light,
Gravity carves a pocket where shadows sigh.
[Outro]
And I stay still, listening to the quiet fall,
noting how a moment sinks, and how the room grows wide and small.
