The Measure of a Description

It can be measured but never truly understood, it is an enigma that has plagued humankind and driven some to simply accept it without question.  Its measure is boundless, yet it is appearance seems small.  It is felt but never seen, although we see it work all the time both in spectacular functions and in minor apparitions of itself. 

Many have sought to oppose it and yet it holds all things prisoner, including time.    It allows us to do great things, but always keeps us in its grace.  It is a prison without walls, yet it nurtures us.  Without it we would have no food to eat, no water to drink and no air to breath.  It gives us games to play, ideas to accomplish and many sleepless hours of discomfort.

We all feel it, every year, every month, every week, every day, every hour, every minute and every second, even in our deaths.  It warps our perceptions of all things we encounter.  It is so weak that a leaf can deny it for a time, yet it pulls down mountains and buildings in it grasp.  It is the measure of the severity of situation but its weight can be lifted.  It always works and never takes time off, without it we would surely die, but its efforts will be the undoing of all life as we know it.