Dimensional Spill

Gravity is leakage,
seeping through unseen seams,
a weight not ours,
a burden from elsewhere.

Magnetism is leakage,
a hum in the marrow,
a tremor of fields bleeding sideways
from halls we cannot enter.

We are drenched in spills,
dimensional run-off,
forces dripping through the cracks of reality,
phantoms staining our three walls.

Not attraction,
not field,
but leakage—
bleeding geometry,
projection of a greater storm.

We mistake the leak for law,
the spill for truth,
while beyond the wall,
the flood rages unbound.