Day 114: Finite Me

Every once in a while we are faced with an unending need to make everyone happy in our lives, be this infinite of ourselves that keeps consistently believing in things. And though the infinite nature of our being is attractive, it is the finite self that keeps us grounded to who we are and makes us humble. It is within the measured self that I find that all limitations are lost. I am writing to a few of my friends whom I see struggling with this tendency, including myself and though we are often tempted to be these best version of ourselves we have learned to live our own lives first. Many who may look at this as a limit, I hope you find meaning in the finite, it is not that which cannot be measured that is large and beautiful, often that can only be felt even if for small moments sometimes. Here's to the finite me

Finite Me
We are finite and yet beyond measure most days,
We are lost somewhere in between looking for our own place
We are thoughtful in our head & yet hard to comprehend,
We are partials that are left in the sand,sometimes just remnants

It is true that most days you we will ponder for a while,
You will look at night lights as they fade and morning hues on a smile
I can't remember the last time we said goodbye,
You were lost in the little things in the back of your head and so was I.

I have thought about it from time to time,
Given up on things that I would raise a glass to, and said things were fine.
We are not measure by leaps and bounds we take,
You were written in words that I wrote , when I stared outside as I lay awake

The finite me from time to time, still draws from stories we write,
We are colors of paintings and etchings on a wall & sometimes scribbles on pages left white
We are wanderers, we are footsteps, we know not where to reappear,
We are limitless in our own ways, for now we are beginnings we know not how to disappear.