In the absence of emptiness there are aggregates, and where emptiness is present, there are pores, and the “necks” of pores that connect to other matters, the absence of which is the matter we know. The matter we know is consumed & reduced to excrement, to the voids of death where it is ravished by the mysterious extravagance of this emptiness.
But the matter we know gathers & penetrates: humic clay, bacterial ooze, root exudate, mucus of hypha, waste of fauna; dispersion forces, filamentous actinomycetes, sloughing of root caps, genesis of meristems, adventuring mycelia, "hands" of the fingering protozoa, biofilms of considered agglomeration, & by virtue of those who open & skin the emptiness, biopores that feel their way through soil—all these "things" that touch us when we die & spire us with such as we grow.
But what is touched is mostly untenanted—these “holes” & those held in place by aggregates, in great excess, grow together as the "matter of space". Captured by the dark of our universe, light is neither the matter of
emptiness nor the matter that makes us. It's sorta like encouragement.
