Infintesimalarity

And then I knew one. Not realized, but one, standing, eating breakfast, wearing her hair in a braid, in a scrunchie maybe, maybe even lying in the arms of another maybe, maybe praying with bowed head, with eyes that shone through closed lids and lashes kissing the sky. Sky above me, sky above her, the same sky, sky the same but from different angles – she sees it one way, and I, I another. Yet living, walking, churning out dashes of movement behind us, show us where we have been and zooming out, stretching back can be seen the paths growing ever closer, winding over oceans, maybe pausing for a moment before they waltz and spin and buzz like a bee out across fields and plains under oak trees and ashen skies, twirling and pining and perched on the edge of rocks we feel that same earth that grows under our feet, standing firmly planted now, for an age or now, then on our final paths, jaws set, hands curled in fists of purpose, hands effecting the change on the world, a world changing and melting in our paths, land hewn in two by movement to where we both shall meet in a final and wondrous crash…

Does that comfort you, knowing the world is small, and all horizons curl over one and the same earth, like a scoop of butterscotch ice cream, ever melting smaller, hope growing stronger, knowing time pushes all things into one microscopic moment? Does that pique your curiosity, ravage your brain, dispel all half-truths and release all captured moments intaglioed in classics to dance across the imagination, and swirling there and growing until overflowing the small cups we sip at tea?