how does one measure a life
what standard would rule
distanced by infinite imagination
tread by finite footfalls
what would then be a life
all creation in a grain of sand
the gaping calculated universe
where does a life begin, end
contained in this chair
this room lined by walls
limited by the horizon
does life circle upon its self
could one travel its distance
to find a life’s beginning

©2011, Donald Harbour

7 thoughts on “Dimension

  1. The juxtaposition of this poem with your mini biography is very telling. It was with great relief that I found my place, and I wish and hope that you find yours. The words upon a page legacy is my hope also.


  2. Thank you for joining Poets United. We look forward to visiting your blog and reading poetry. We also look forward to seeing you in our community.

    Ink runs from the corners of my mouth
    There is no happiness like mine.
    I have been eating poetry.
    ~Mark Strand


  3. Donald, this is gorgeous, from beginning to ending. I love your biography, open and honest. I believe I’ve found my place finally. I am usually pretty content, but always waiting for the day I can retire. We want to travel more.:)


  4. “where does a life begin, end
    contained in this chair
    this room lined by walls
    limited by the horizon”

    This sounds rather wistful and introspective to me. Are you questioning your place, your life? Whatever the impetus, you’ve given us a glimpse into a man who looks within and that’s a precious thing to share.


  5. Oh there’s another beautiful poem (if I only had a memory) that ends (to poorly paraphrase), “and at long last when the journey is ended, we return to that place from whence we began, and understand it now for the first time.” Your poem brings this so much to mind for me. A beautifully phrased quest and question you’ve given with this poem.

    I also thought the lack of convention punctuation appropriate here, generating a measure of both internal and external questioning, so the reader needs consider all the meanings suggested by the poem text (less easy to accept only one that’s more familiar to us). I like that too. Thanks Donald.



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