Finite Body (Infinite Spirit)

Boundless. Infinite. She knows no edges.

This Spirit within—how can I contain her within this vessel? Something within me is desperate to know.

This body. The finite containing the infinite.

I feel as though I could break.

Such love. Such goodness. Such beauty.

How can she be contained within a vessel made of edges?

This split within. The duality.

I become more keenly aware of it with each passing day.

This longing for something more. The soaring of the Spirit. With a love so vast within, it could break me. The taking in of the beauty. Of the goodness. And the holy ache. The ache that can hold no more love in this space. Where will the excess go?

Am I halfway through this life? This human experience?

Something within me remembers. I remember the other side. I remember the land from whence I came, and to that land I long to return.

To the land of the infinite.

To the land of no edges.

Where love can be held in a container made of that. A container made of the infinite. To hold love, the very substance of infinity, in the palm of my hand.

Because my hand? It is made of the wind.

I glance out of the corner of my eye.

Ah, the kitchen desk.

The mail awaits. It awaits a body to open it. Much to discard, and bills to pay.

Overdue.

And yet I yearn. I yearn to fly. I remember the sky I once knew.

This beauty, it is too much for these eyes. This exquisite pleasure, it is more than one heart can hold.

How shall I break and pour out that which I hold within...

How shall I paint in brush strokes this love... this infinitude... in the color of beauty and blessing into my world?

I am made of the immortal.

I am beauty.

I am light.

I am made of the mortal.

And my eyelids, they are heavy.