Indivisibly Divisible Thoughts of Individuals

How broken do we have to be
Not to mean? We’re fragmentary
Almost all of the time in speech,
But redundancy lets us mean.

The branches of spruce and the flight
Feathers from which quills were once made
Look similar in silhouette.
Spiral galaxies pirouette

Around such coincidences,
But meaning’s kin to gravity
More than to signs’ interactions,
Gathering cumulatively.

Then is it, as with gravity,
Inhering, or is it the light,
Thrown electromagnetism,
Waves echoing as projected?

There’s some kind of continuum
Between random phonemes and texts
Crafted by wise algorithms,
And most of us lie along it,

Neither spoken whole nor wholly
Broken, but whether we’re glowing
From internal fusion or tossed
Around to bounce off surfaces,

We still seem uncertain to us.
Even gravity curves and waves.
Every fracture makes connections,
Whether compressed or uncoiling.