Can we put a ruler up to infinity?
Can we put infinity on a scale?
Can we say anymore about the nature of infinity except that it goes on and on endlessly? By its nature it confounds us, and yet, we still try to grapple with it by attempting to make it less than it is.
To commune with infinity is to break the bonds of the mundane.
To experience infinity is to go beyond the realm of mere human experience.
It cannot be touched, it cannot be tested, and it cannot be observed except in only the smallest infinitesimal sample of its enormity.
And what if, what if that Infinity that we as temporal beings cannot grasp, what if that Infinity had a name, had a mind, had a thought?
And from that thought directed at us, how could we even begin to receive it?
How could we comprehend its complexity?
The collective weight of even the smallest whisper of Infinity would crush us to powder.
And what if this Infinity spoke?
What would our response be?
Would we ignore it, categorize it as the chaos of a wayward neuron in our brain?
Would we call it madness, and shut it away, lock it up for our own good?
No! We would recognize it for what it was, instantly, without doubt or hesitation.
Only after the fact would our mortal and limited mind attempt to reckon with it in some other way than the sublime instant of contact.
I pity the man that explains it away, who gives it another name, who makes it into something it is not, something less, something mundane, something barren in comparison.
I pity the man who trades the supreme mystery for the pale, common and comfortable
Pity me, who can give only the acceptable answer, or suffer the consequences.
Pity me, who, in the backdrop of such sublime Infinity, must grapple with the tangles and webs of the sum of the full experience of manís limited imagination.
Who is the worse? I, at least, have my moment of Eternity, and in that inexplicable wonder of mystery, I find my peace.