Sepak Takraw and the Branes

Lyrics

[Intro]
Oh, little rattan sphere, woven from the palms of forgotten weavers in rural Thailand, 2010.
You hover in the humid air of Stadium Titiwangsa, Kuala Lumpur, at 4 PM, when the light slants golden.

[Verse 1]
Abdul Rahman bin Hassan, born 1980, your feet knew me before the strike.
The ball, 170 grams of frayed strips, diameter 12 cm, rough against skin.
In my hippocampus, the prediction unfolds—
your path across the court, 13.4 meters long, 6.1 wide, net at 1.52 meters.
I address you, my woven companion, as you leap from tekong's kick,
folding the space between us like branes in a hidden dimension.
The brain's folds anticipate: 28 degrees Celsius, sweat beading, the sting on bare soles.

[Chorus]
You move through many worlds, rattan one,
across the manifold of the mind's eye.
One breath, and the dimensions collapse—
from possibility to impact, in Kuala Lumpur's sticky dusk.
My neurons fire, tracing your arc, Abdul's quote echoing: the ball doesn’t wait.
Folded branes of cortex, court, and chance.

[Verse 2]
In the village courtyard, bamboo training dummy at net height,
you're kicked under fading light, 7 PM, exhaust from old Honda motorbikes nearby.
Smell of mango sticky rice lingers, sweet against rattan dust.
Sisukiro whispers to you: the neurology of the raid,
hippocampus mapping brane-like layers, where your trajectory hides in probability.
From Malacca Sultanate, 15th century, Sejarah Melayu pages turning,
to ISTAF rules, 2011, best of three sets to 21.
Your frayed edges burn like kerosene-soaked flames in Thai nights.

[Bridge]
Oh, object of my focus, tool of folded realities,
the body's chemistry surges—cortisol, anticipation in 32-degree heat.
Weavers unnamed, women in family units, their hands the first dimension you knew.
In this intimate game, brain and ball entwine,
no hands, only feet, knees, chest, head—neurological dance across branes.

[Outro]
As you fall, little rattan, the manifold resolves.
From Legion days to this court, Ludo's math in my voice,
the universe's tournament in one kick.
Rest now, in the dust of Titiwangsa.