Late Night Thoughts
Late Night Thoughts
I'm lost in little infinities,
in stars that multiply the longer I look.
I lose count of what's real and what's not,
unsure when the endless stream of numbers concludes,
because how do we even get to .1 or .01?
What stops the never-ending line of 0's before the first natural digit?
Something must
Because here I am writing a poem at 10:35 and 8 seconds... 9,
but if a something can creep forward infinitely, yet never reach its destination,
how will the tenth second come,
when will we stop subdividing and finally let our toes cross the line?
We can cut in half forever,
remain stuck in the infinites,
get lost between one zero and another, no clue where we are in the lineup,
or how large a fraction of infinity we are.
That I do understand,
that one infinity is larger than another,
the possibilities for factions and lines of zeros infinitely more infinite.
But how do you get past it,
that first step into infinity?
Where does it start?
Because I want to go into infinity,
a place where the 11th second never comes,
where our bodies grow old and weak but we still say we're teenagers,
a time where Monday never arrives and Vocab is never due.
I think I would have an easier time doing it then,
when precious seconds weren't trickling by,
and I didn't have to stop and wonder if I'm using them well.
Maybe I am in infinity.
I've been placed in a world too big for me to understand,
where I get lost in questions metaphors struggle to explain.
I have a lot,
I could go on endlessly.
But really,
how great is my infinity?
I am writing this poem at 11 p.m. curled in my bed, trying to go to sleep. I don't have an author's purpose. I don't know what it means. But here it is, a piece of my infinity.
The Voice
December 2025
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