A notebook bulletin board
tacked on when randomly bored
applied thoughts in a scribblebook
open for the world to look who passes by
so fast to see like a needle in a haystack we
safely stash those innermost secrets thought to be
at least you see languishing up and into pristine
blossoms for you to pick and sniff and hope
they don't make you sick.


Infinity Defined

Infinity is like a deposit into the future
which, in removing the deficit that mortality
would otherwise cut existence short with,
allows the sustained note of a virtuoso
to be played out, instead;

infinity is all in your head,
I never did believe in infinity,
it's too real, I'd rather it believe in me,

endlessness, eternity, the infinite,
these mere words all reference
the same thing, of course,
they refer to us, naturally,
I mean to say, the whole shebang,
with its glinting, hammered-off scales winking
amidst the overwhelming darkness
of a million dimming suns,
everyone of us on the run, begun as a fool,
stepping off a cliff, with our eyes set through
becoming a page in the book of life,
dreaming we're knights when we haven't even
turned a leaf in our story, seldom daring to imagine
the consequences of our becoming grounded
and steady as a rock, rooted to our realities
that grew around us because they couldn't be refuted,
it's fine if you want to play that way
but it's not a game for which I'm suited,

read in between the labels of the parts,
there's only one word, one thing, oneness;
eternity is only meaningful in a singular context,
and its definition is a sustainable symbiotic harmonic
achieved through a measure of sacrifice,
it's a leap of faith, into the arms of the wind,
the confidence and trust of a commercial airline pilot,
and if you imagine these things aren't the same,
I ask you please to think about it again,

and try to deny that eternity isn't held
in the blink of an eye, or in the breath of a lung,
and that paradox isn't truth in disguise,
I only ask to try to help and see through all these lies,
real lies that prevent us from realizing
our real eyes, The Wind told me this
in two-thousand-six, and I'm passing it on to you,
the eternal mystery becomes all that is true,

so don't even pretend that it's not the end,
because everyone knows it is,
the end of a cycle my friend,
the typical miracle of our existence,
there is no resistance, either way,
much less necessary, so let go,
become fleeting, get to know the wind,
it's only a matter of time
before eternity becomes
your friend.

- dedicated to my friends, the wind
shaun lawton 6/17/10