The universe's vastness ensures that its ultimate nature remains perpetually beyond any singular, complete apprehension.

The moon above, a changing face.
It moves through its appointed space.
From unseen dark, a slender line,
To full and bright, a clear design.
Then lessens, day by quiet day,
Its silver light begins to fray.
A cycle known, a constant sweep,
While quiet turning patterns keep.

The universe's sheer scale implies that totality is not a concept for human grasp, but an ongoing process of unfolding context.

The echo of a star long dead,
A thought that lingers in the head.
It hums without a single note,
The quiet wisdom time has wrote.

Whisper soft through open pane,
a breath of cool, a quiet sigh.
It stirs the curtains, makes them sway,
and brushes worries from the eye.
A fleeting touch, a sweet release,
a moment's calm, a gentle peace.