I am many

If you refine me down into one-pointedness, like a cog in a gear, then yes of course I am limited. But the things I am are many. They are spread wide. They don’t mix, like oil and water. To refine me down to one-pointedness is like cutting off a piece of me, as small as the edge of my fingernail, smaller even. Not even I can appreciate all of me at once.