In the cold silence of a single person,
there is no heat, no chorus, no trembling law.
He moves,
but one step is not a dance,
one drum is not a rhythm,
and one single man knows nothing of the fever of the crowd.

A single man wanders in the night,
moving alone, yet knowing not its heat not light

For one cannot holds the lord’s flame but dance,
Watches the loved ones at a glance.

Fever is born only when the many gather, colliding, trading fragments of their haste,
weaving their random paths, into a single, stable, fate.

Let them collide, let them flow,
from their chaos, a secret order will grow,
thus the Lord will find his throne.

Chaos spreads, and god sings,
for heat is but the flutter of the wings.

This measure of warmth is a tale of the crowd,
but for this single man, he never had his head bowed

But the one, is silent, he is the only truth.

~ Physics of Problems - Dynamics of Love | Transport Properties in Gases

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