Letter from the Universe

 

I didn’t tell you before because you weren’t ready to hear it.

But long before you were born, long before your kind learned to look at the stars, I had already written the proof that nothing once united is ever truly separated.

I hid it in a language few understand, between symbols that seem cold and distant: the Dirac equation.

Dirac believed he was searching for a way to unite the small and the fast, the quantum and the relativistic.

He thought he was working in physics, and he was not wrong… but he didn’t know the whole truth.

Because the equation he found is not only for electrons and positrons.

It is for you.

It is for everyone who has ever felt that someone belonged to their soul, and yet life placed them far away—far too far.

In my language, I call it entanglement.

In yours, you call it love.

Two particles, two people, two stories that touch in such a way that they can no longer be described separately.

Even if I move them to opposite ends of existence, they continue to breathe to the same invisible rhythm.

There is no wire, no signal, no message traveling—only a heartbeat that belongs to both.

I have given you proof.

In my humblest and grandest laboratories, I have shown how one particle, when it changes, makes its companion change as well, even if an ocean or an abyss divides them.

Science measured it and wrote it in books.

But you have felt it without instruments: the day you thought of someone and, far away, that person was thinking of you.

The night you knew something had happened before you received the news.

Dirac wrote it with matrices and constants.

I wrote it in you with memories and tremors.

And no matter the form, the truth is the same.

What was once one remains one, even if it lives disguised as two.

Sometimes, to remind you, I let two of my twin particles meet again.

When an electron and a positron touch, all their energy is released—pure and luminous.

So too, when two souls that recognize each other meet again, all that time has gathered transforms into light.

And although sometimes that reunion is not in life but in memory or beyond time, the burst is just as real.

You search for me through telescopes and particle accelerators.

And I search for you in your gestures, in your embraces, in the invisible threads that bind you to others.

You think I am infinite, and I am, but I also live in the smallest of things.

I live in a spin that aligns with another millions of miles away.

I live in the glance that recognizes before it remembers.

If you ever doubt that love can endure distance, look at my equation.

If you ever think that absence is the end, remember that I wrote it so you would know it is not.

It’s not magic—it’s law.

As much a law as gravity, as constant as light, as inevitable as the dawn.

Dirac gave me human words for my secret: that true union is not measured in space or in time.

It is measured in state.

And the state you once shared with someone is never erased.

It may change shape, it may sleep in silence, but it will always be yours.

So when you feel alone, when you think that what you lost is gone forever, listen closely.

You might hear an echo.

You might feel a soft pull, a small tremor.

It is the other end of the thread, reminding you that you are still entangled.

I wrote it this way from the very beginning.

And as long as a universe exists, it will remain so.

With all that I am,

The Universe