I fail everyday,
a failure that marks
my obsolescence.
How many infinities
must pass before
I am born again?
I travel between parallel
lines marking various
points of meeting
challenging the certainty
that only
infinity makes
parallel meet
I dress my finitude in
uncertain colors, perhaps
life will skip me
by, but every effort
completes the circle
where
desires die
Some infinities do meet,
but a life time passes or
perhaps a second before
we realise the difference
in breadth, realign
the lines and rehearse
another day
