Continuum
The light breaks in shapes, and still fragments, and shades I've never witnessed before. Time reveals its fluid nature, and space loosens form, all solid matter separated by particle, and gravity distorts within the matrix.
Each element of existence is unformed, and integrated, the boundaries indistinguishable, revealing the fabric of the cosmos.
Nothing exists apart from anything else. Form is only a momentary arrangement within the greater movement, a temporary gathering of what was never truly apart. What appears solid is already in motion. What appears distant is already connected. What appears to have an edge is simply where perception has chosen to end.
Nothing holds its edge for long. What seemed separate returns to singularity, and the light forgets the shape it once wore. The field breathes without a boundary to breathe against, and even distance loses its grandeur, folding back into the geometry it never left.