To Infinity--& Beyond

"We are Infinite"--image by Brooke Shaden

To Infinity--& Beyond

“If you look, might you discover that our entire universe is

but a part of one atom on a blade of grass?”--Stephen King.

Most of us

have seen the lemniscate symbol,

                  created in the 17th Century,

the number 8 lying            on its side

                  representing infinity.

As curious simians, we are cursed 

                                      or blessed

with countless questions, literally driven

to find answers that do not

           generate closure or actual knowledge.

                    

                   If it is fact 

that our spiritual essence is eternal, then

                   how does infinity weigh into

                   the cosmological metaphysical equation?

Jesus, all the brainy mathematician types

create complex formulas

                   utilizing two basic types of infinite numbers;

                   those that are countless & innumerable, &

                   those that are truly endless & limitless.

I favor the notion

that curves,

fractal of otherwise, compose

                  all the universes & dimensions

we stand square in the middle of, 

                  or on the fragmented edge of--

                           that the flat topology enthusiasts,

like the flat-earth believers of the past, are just not

imaginative enough, that

our Universe, perhaps

                       but a microscopic blemish

                                             on the buttocks of infinite

                                             universes,

is curved,

like the earth--that a thought,

                              a laser beam of light,

                              an astral projection traveling

on a straight line journey will

ultimately return

to its original starting point,

eating its own tail, becoming

           part of the great wheel,

perpetually in motion.

I mean, if the universe(s)

& our little lives

are comprised of infinite possibilities--

then should we waste time

trying to grasp the nature of it,          or just keep on moving

                                         until our feet turn to clay,

our cortex is rendered down to a gleaming cubicle of salt,

our fragile armor of flesh rots

                                         and returns to the earth mother,

                 or turns to gray ash on a pyre?

The young woman in the blue dress

has her own perspective on all this as she suddenly

                 can see through solid stone walls,

                 can see flights of angels, 

& intricate patterns of every hue of light,

                 conquering fear, glimpsing a portion of understanding

as to her peculiar placement within her particular lifetime;

and like a princess pig well trained

                to sniff out heavenly truffles, she is

                            certain that Truth lurks just below the surface,

even though she is prevented from unearthing it--

& she is now equally certain that it is philosophical madness

to entertain the notion

                that a million monkeys banging

                on a million typewriters eventually

would reproduce the Holy Bible, the Koran,

                         or the complete works of Shakespeare,

for she is witness to a billion monkeys banging on

                                 a billion keyboards, & whatever

is emerging

is only part

of an infinite process. 

                             

                  

Glenn Buttkus

Posted over on dVerse Poets Poetics

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