The Silent Orbit

A pebble of iron glides through the dark, tethered by an invisible, ancient string. No wind hums against its frozen face, no tide rushes to meet its gentle pull. It simply falls, forever, around a burning star.

Light stretches thin across the empty miles, painting shadows that never seem to shift. Centuries gather like dust on its skin, a quiet calendar of unspoken years. Nothing moves, yet everything is racing.

Down below, the blue world continues its spin, loud with the noise of a thousand brief lives. They look up and see a still, silver point, unaware of the speed, the cold, the grand design. The orbit holds them all, patient and blind.