Where Infinity Ends

There is no truth
entirely seen.
Only the point of view,
projecting,
illuminating,
the narrow angle
through which your gaze
casts its partial light.

The eye reveals
a sliver of the whole,
a single arc
of consciousness,
ever incomplete.

No lens,
no beam,
no flicker of perception
can hold the all,
for truth
is a sphere of infinite angles,
and every object
endlessly
gazes back.

Each thing
waits to be found again,
from a new direction,
a different slant of being.

Infinity,
multiplied by infinity,
remains itself.
But if even one,
just one,
is added
or taken,
it collapses.

Infinity
dies
at the touch of change.
So too
does zero.

They are twins,
vanishing
in the presence
of anything.

There are no missing links
in the world itself,
only absences
in our seeing.