The Ache of Infinity Without a Witness

Why the beauty we cannot contain is the only kind worth treasuring.

There are mountains I will never climb,
their snow-crowned peaks forever far.
Rivers sing their ancient hymns
to tides that never meet my ear.

Cities blaze with golden light,
strangers laughing in lost tongues.
Gardens bloom with flowers wild
I will never breathe or name.

The world unfolds beyond my reach,
ten thousand sunsets, each reborn
on distant shores I will not see,
a brilliance I can only dream.

Yet in the ache a wonder wakes.
Perhaps the longing is the gift,
to know that beauty lives unbound,
untouched and therefore infinite.

If I could hold it all at once,
would morning lose its mystery?
Would distant shores grow silent
without the pull of absence?

The grief of what I cannot touch
makes every fleeting glimpse ignite.
A single moment burns so bright
it lingers after it is gone.

We love what we cannot contain.
We treasure what we cannot keep.
This is the secret beauty guards,
its heart forever bittersweet.

---

---