The resolution of reality reaches as deeply into fathoms of infinitesimally and infinite as our mind wishes to take us.

Isn't it amazing, the things that we know? The extent of each piece gathered through years by some ones
Who were different from us, and yet they were still almost entirely the same in every way conceivable.
A tricky, sly puzzle of the universe hidden right in front of and under us and even
Inside of us. Inside. Of. Us. We look outward at the wonder of the great rocks
And the great waters, the great tides and planets and great fires of our universe.
We have looked outward so long, even our looking inward feels of peering out.
Our hearts beat on as the antiquated seats of emotions, loves, feelings,
While our minds are forced to observe, muted by our own traditions.
Twenty-three years past, my father walks with a young woman,
Their fingers intertwined, the damp air cold on their necks.
They laugh, and when they aren't laughing they smile.
When they smile, they don't think much ahead,
And when they think, it's of today.
The future is more of now,
The perfect moment they've found
Clinging to each other,
Chasing life through
Summers and
Winters.