“We should like Nature to go no further; we should like it to be finite, like our mind; but this is to ignore the greatness and majesty of the Author of things.”
—Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz, 1715
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for my dear friends who amply supply
pictures of the infinity of nature
daily
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the comfort food of your
living-loving-eyeshot
screenings  of moments preservations of

the delicate and the roughened,
the mystical and magical of
our creative globe’s ad and mis
ventures,
oft far from the paths of human ruination
trafficking

these photos

the first of the day,
signaling white smoke rising or
the full fledged regular milky
insertion photographic
into the mine daily awakening
of the
purpled majesty of the world
when ******* pleasure of
first coffees of life’s days

and how it pleases me,
that there is no
conceptual conceivable,
that there will not be an
finishing enthralling,

a last never-before-witnessed
visionary submission
without
a never finite ending to this
infinite processional!

thus no need to say with
them ordinary wordy pleas of/to:
“keep them coming,”

for by your read acknowledgement of
this here poem,
you have cosigned this
contractual
o b l i g a t i o n

and I say
an ecstatic
Thank You

Following two decades time
A human transforms
Into an exploding cosmos
In the desolate void

Floating away
Flickering light
Questions of purpose
In the haze of dismay

Fear not of this barren
Let it fuel the flame
Move further and farther
In the deepest of abyss

For the cosmos within
Will unfold and evolve
The lessons as your light
In the dark, cold rise

Remember these words
As you travel through space
You are bizarrely infinite
A celestial design

Where do I start?
At birth?
At teenage life?
Or maybe just where I am now.

They say “When one door closes, another one opens.”
But I say there’s an infinite number of doors all wide open, and we’re just running right through them, over and over and over. Continuous running with no destination.

Where am I now?
Who am I?
What am I doing?
Or maybe I'm still figuring it all out.

It’s like once you learn how to crawl, you’re already learning how to walk, and then learning how to run. Then you keep running, never stopping, going through life, Door After Door. There’s no end in sight and if you look back, it’s like a chain reaction of doors closing one after another, until the one right behind you closes, almost slamming right near your face, forcing you to turn back around and keep running, right through the infinite amount of doors in front of you.

Do I continue?
Do I stop?
What's the point?
Or maybe there’s a bigger picture.

They say “Think outside the box.”
But if you take a minute in my mind, there’s no box at all, just an infinite amount of thinking, always changing, always different. No one answer, no same questions, just endless possibilities, endless stories, endless suffering. Though I always think that during my continuous running, there’s gonna be others who will hold out their hands and run with me. Maybe not forever, but long enough that I leave an impact on their life and where they might be running to. But I know that one day their hand will slip from mine, cause each journey leads to different paths, each door connecting to different doors, and maybe when I go through the door, I’ll be alone again, running by myself, wondering again ‘Where Am I Going?’ While I continue running through life, Door After Door.