The infinite is the line of demarcation in every important bit of what separates man from machine and the rest of creation. In Mormonism it is the barrier that divides the mortal from the premortal and postmortal, it is the desert between God and His past, and for man, it is not a gulf of nonexistence, but an endless sea of personhood. The infinite is what lies before us, and after us. The infinite is inside us. The infinite *is* us. It is what lies beyond the firmament.
The Unwashed banter about the infinite as though they understand the darkness below the thermocline over the Marianas Trench. But they don’t want to dip their toes in that water. It’s cold. And you can’t see the bottom. Because there isn’t one.
Poets and Prophets run from the infinite, they hedge it up, lighting little flares of truth to keep it at bay. But they can’t do it for long. Death takes them and forces them through that thin crack between worlds they barely glimpsed in their 5 minute flashes of inspiration. Get ready, you’re in the same rushing time-stream. But don’t worry. You’ve been there, done that. Have faith. It *is* going to work out. The best really is yet to come.