Centered

The universe is infinite,
and yet, it isn’t.
It curves inward on itself
the way our reasoning does
when we are so sure that we are right
and we prove to ourselves
that we have been at the heart of it
all along.

Escape is,
therefore,
unimaginable.
Freedom,
unattainable.
A new course,
nothing more than
a tangent of impossibility.

If only we could see.
What is there,
beyond this infinity?
What is there,
where there is not even nothing,
where there is a lack of lacking,
where there is neither love nor hate,
no greatness of joy or deepness of sorrow.

Oh,
who we would be,
outside ourselves.
Who we could be.
Who we could
avoid being.