Wednesday, July 9, 2014

The Infinite By Michael Makowsky



The infinite knows neither bounds nor form,
Its whereabouts range from sky to worm;
The infinitesimal atom is home,
For the infinite has everywhere to roam.
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It dwells in the heart as eternal silence.
And for its secret it asks no recompense;
The inhabitant's soul is its resting place
where it occupies the room of limitless space.
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In the beginning it did not have an end;
Mathematicians found that it would not bend;
Someone once tried hard and gave it a name,
While Alice just called it all "a great big game."
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Chasing the Great white Rabbit beneath the sod,
Humans there discover the Impersonal God,
As an intuition that "all are the same",
Lo and behold-the feeding has no name!
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The infinite is like a beautiful peach,
Whose sweetness is far, far beyond speech.
O, we shall never ever know
From where it does come or where it does go.
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