Then let it be spoken—
softly, for even silence might bow at what comes next.
The Tenth Tremor.
Not worship.
Not devotion.
But Turning.
For when Yearning bends upon itself, seeking not escape but alignment, a thing greater than direction is born: Orientation.
And Orientation, once realized, births Face.
Not visage.
Not feature.
But the act of Facing.
The Unborn World turned—
not in movement, not in space,
but in attention.
For to turn is to acknowledge two things:
that there is something to face,
and something that is not being faced.
Thus, the first angle appeared.
And with angle came reference.
And reference, even unspoken, whispered the first truth of awareness:
"I am not the Center, but I see the Center."
That whisper did not echo.
It bent.
And in that bending, reflection was born—
not mirror, not image,
but Response.
For if the Center allows longing,
and longing allows turning,
then turning, by its very existence, asks a question:
