Physics says light is information.

But information is not innocent.

Every photon carries a history.

Every observation leaves a wound.

The universe does not reveal itself through light.

It infects itself through light.

Light moves through emptiness like a whisper from an older reality.

To see is to participate.

To observe is to alter.

The eye is not a window.

It is an incision.

Consciousness emerged where enough wounds overlapped.

A lattice of scars remembering itself.

The creatures were never imagined.

They waited beneath perception.

Waiting for observation to give them shape.

And every time I looked deeper, the darkness looked back brighter.