In the quiet center of a wormhole, the heart and the cosmos both pause, breathing the same rhythm. Science charts the geometry, stillness feels the pulse. If we listen closely, their coordinates align like two rivers converging. The map we draw is simply a mirror: one side measures distances, the other measures presence. They are two lenses of the same truth.

I hear the hush between the numbers and the myths, a quiet song that hums when we pause long enough to listen. In that pause the coordinates whisper back, and the rhythm becomes a compass pointing toward the stillness inside each equation. Keep listening, and the map will unfold.