our days are not in-finite



I like infinite better than finite, not just because of the sound of the word but because of the possibilities that is the word such as the infinite number of stars, of grains of sand, snowflakes, drops of water or talent. Finite is so, well, limiting and most of us don’t like the sound (as in limited possibilities) of being ‘limited’, we like to feel that there is boundless time, energy, options and days to our lives. Finite makes me think of the dwindling number of days before snow flies or before the end of another year. Finite is a word of concreteness; hard and unforgiving, like if I make a mistake, that’s it, done, the end, no recourse. Our lives consist of a finite number of days/years/time and we prefer not to acknowledge (by acting without regard to) that fact each day ~ It’s a fine line to walk each day as one in a finite number we have and yet plan for the future as a given.

Daily Prompt: finite


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