The Finite

Consciousness is the differential in infinity.
It’s place here is not like the trees, or the stones.
It is the still traveling light of a long dead star;
It is the shape hewn by the sea into a desert cliff.

There is no equation known, no string of words,
no painting, nor sonnet, that can reveal its complexity.
It is the finite eternity, in the grasp of forever.
Blinded; it sees, beaten; it grows, perished; it ripples.