Immeasurable

Immeasurable:

it's all without measure - everything in continuation of itself in some form or formless way. Only distinctions end, but seamless, the world remains as is. So too, I find myself immeasurable, distinct, and yet without true lines. I have no idea where this all ends. Or if it ever does. I'm not claiming immortality, but only my own sense of wonder, that molecules and atoms in constant trade across borders, somehow carry a singular essence along. 

in this sense I will continue. 

what is truly ever measured - as if arbitrary distance could be assigned within such a spacious world. It all belongs to convenience, a help to navigate through each day. To measure is to finish, a set point where a certain existence ends and another might begin. It's an illusion made real by belief, a trick of sight, and feel of something solid. 

yet life itself remains immeasurable. 

to see a bird in flight is to witness the seamless grace of air, a sure acceptance of wing curved to just the right expression. There is no point of separation to be measured from wingtip to air, and to include myself in observation - I belong within this flight as well. It's the same with any object, to measure any distance of between is to leave off the formlessness that continues. It's a false sense of seeing, not wrong completely, but not entirely so at all. 

life is more than can be measured. 

so what I am is life, a continuation of every season, changing, a constant shift of nature in another end and new becoming. I'm not measured by a definition long ago given by another, a truth assigned through a belief of certain numbers.

immeasurable, life continues. 

~

Peace, Eric