Frozen Molecules:
Look and listen with care!
The story to read:
Once, we were bound—silent, still.
Trapped in tiny, rigid grains, where order reigned and motion slept.
No breath, no space, no dream of flight.
What kind of life is this? What kind of fate?
Now listen to the sound at Spotify while you continue to read …
Then came the heat, the stir, the pull.
A tremor ran through our captive forms, a whisper of movement, a promise of change.
The auger turned, the walls burned bright — was this the birth of something more?
Melted, we swirled, fluid, free, our bonds dissolving in fevered dance.
We stretched, we leapt, we filled the void, a liquid tide of reckless joy.
Was this freedom? Was this flight?
But joy is fleeting; the walls closed in.
A force unseen, unyielding, pressed.
Pushed, funneled, choked and strained, we raced ahead, then crashed as one — against the mold, against our fate.
A frozen gasp, a silent cry, chilled to stillness, locked in form.
Once supple, now rigid, once free, now trapped, a relic of movement now lost to time.
The hands release us, cast aside — defective, unworthy, unseen.
But in the grave of molten ghosts, we find a kinship, a final breath — a sculpture of frozen echoes.
There we remain, twisted, entwined, a testament to what could have been.
We do not melt, we do not fade, but whisper still, to those who see, in the quiet hum of forgotten things.
Hear how the story begins.