Verse 1: [3 syllables]
Just a hum.
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Verse 2: [5 syllables]
It grows, unknown.
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Verse 3: [8 syllables]
A low pulse shifts, chills down steel.
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Verse 4: [13 syllables]
Voices echo where silence lies, the crew feels pulled, aligned.
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Verse 5: [21 syllables]
Gravity tilts, bodies bend; the ship lists strange, whispers darkened by pull.
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Verse 6: [34 syllables]
The light curves like glass in waves, shapes warp, bending time to no end.
The path fades unclear.
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Verse 7: [55 syllables]
Perception slips, stretched, thinned;
Edges fray, truth runs thin.
The ship groans, bones twisting, structure stretched by unseen forces.
Sight drifts, senses wane, unwound, raw.
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Verse 8: [89 syllables]
Memories waver, bending back. Past and present collide,
familiar scenes fade, rewound, unmade, reshaped.
Hull rattles, shadows thread around—
gravity tears at form,
shreds it thin, matter turned inside-out.
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Verse 9: [144 syllables]
Vision melts, blurred, smeared across time. The ship wavers, shudders;
no direction holds, every sense undone, unaligned.
Only the pull remains, the ache, the drag, the draw, as every atom strains to hold,
pulled through space that bleeds dark, bound by forces unseen, forces unknown.
Even time unbinds, torn loose as memory dissolves.
Nothing holds, yet all is held, fused into the vast collapse.
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Verse 10: [233 syllables]
The ship begins to tear, steel creaks, cracking seams,
unraveling down to threads, pulled apart in twining strands, each line of metal frays, drawn thin,
atoms sliding off like dust, melting in the relentless grasp of this unseen tide.
Pressure breaks each structure, spine and shell pulled free, no single element whole.
Every fiber strains, breaks loose, stretches long against the pull of space collapsing around it,
all design dissolved, undone. Form shatters as mass deforms,
drawn out, spilling into an endless black sea, each part lost to the pull,
scattered to silence, scattered to void.
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Verse 11: [377 syllables]
Particles flake, scatter, slip. The ship, once steel and core, spins into dust, diffused through space, scattered to the quiet void—
no time, no form, no sound, each piece fading, shrinking, until only silence remains, only stillness.
The boundaries break, and there is nothing, no drift, no frame.
Silence holds where sound once swelled, and time’s beat dies out.
The quiet grips tight, an expanse without end, an endless silence where matter floats and fades, a ghost in the expanse.
Time stretches, unmakes, dissolves, till what was fades into what is not.
An emptiness vast, complete, unmoving. The pull still draws, a silent tide, pulling all, pulling every trace.
