INFINITY.
(as told by a child named Tizzy…)
Infinity is another thing that makes me want to throw up.
What’s at the end of the Universe? If you travelled on and on, outwards forever – in your own head of course, because we’d never get a spaceship to travel that far, no matter how clever we get – when you’ve gone on and on forever like that, zooming through infinite space, past all of the planets and suns and comets and cosmic dust, you’d eventually have to come to a place where everything stops.
Wouldn’t you?
Because otherwise it would be unimaginable – to have that much darkness leaning upon us forever.
But then, the nothingness, where everything is supposed to have stopped, would also have to be infinite. It would have to stretch on and on and on, forever and ever, Amen. You’d have to think that. It only makes sense.
And what would that nothingness be? Even if it were only a void or empty space, without air or light or anything, it would still be something. Because you could name it. And, so, you still wouldn’t be in the place where everything stopped.
It seems, after all, that there mightn’t be such a place. That infinity is real. Oh God! That makes me feel like a wasp is inside of my brain.
Perhaps there’s a wall. A place that marks the end of the Universe. A wall that says, Here is the place called Stop.
I can see that.
I can touch it in my imagination. I start to take down the bricks, one by one, to see what’s beyond the wall, because you’d always have a curiosity, wouldn’t you, to see what’s going on in your neighbour’s back yard. But for every layer of bricks I take down there are far more bricks behind, more and more and more, until my hands are bloody and raw from dismantling the wall, and then, damn it, I realise that the wall is infinite too. That it goes on and on and on, forever and ever, Amen. Sarah says would you ever come back out of that. She says I’m only to take care of what I can manage.
OM TAT SAT
Generally just Being. Nothing in particular, no claims to fame. I like gardening and the sea, nature, art in all forms from poetry to films and everything in between, and being in the company of my family.
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