It forms, in its silent dominion, the boundaries of our physical expression, making manifest the shape of our limbs and that of our limitations.

It takes its toll and bequeaths its honors without rancor or remorse. We take from it what we can, struggling as we may, transforming ourselves as we do, sinew and lung.

Its judgments are true and unerring. We take them for granted, even when we take them in stride. Who amongst us hasn’t celebrated as we register another notch in our personal pursuits against it? 

For all we have learned, for all that we hope, it is a measure against which we rank ourselves and gauge our progress. In its unflinching uniformity, it balances the scales for us all, for beneath its hand, time is but an arbitrary indicator of its resolve, any honors earned but momentary reflections of our transient mastery, which will, soon enough, erode under its unrelenting pressure. 

Warping space, altering time, gravity holds no favorites, curries no favors, accepts no inducements, offers no excuses, even as it belabors our every movement and intention. 

It is the force field through which we all course, the same for one as for us all. By our engagement with it, whether alone or in communion with one another, we gain insight, humility and an abiding sense of our place in the order of things. What more could we ask of the great, enveloping leveler?

END