A Moon Like You

Why do I rise
and fall,
and swirl,
and thrash,
turbulent
like a sea,
at the mercy of forces
beyond my control?
Why is my
own personal tide
linked to a moon

not of my world

that I see only in part
and can never begin

to understand
in any meaningful way?

A moon like you.

 

Do you rise and fall, too?
Do I tug at you
and make you roil
and quiver?
How will I ever know

when the words we use
are imprecise
and seldom spoken
and the truth
hurts so much
it's sometimes better
to choke it out
than to bare
its painful birth?

All I can know,
and pretend to comprehend
is what's inside my head.

Why are we so far apart?

Is this real space between us?
Or is that in my head, too?
A matter of perception?
Are we, in fact,
connected fundamentally
by the air we breathe
and share like blood,
and by the atoms,
molecules
and cells
that bond to give us shape,
indistinguishable microscopically
from one of us to the next?
Are we all rattling around
alone
together
in some glorious super-organism?
Our miseries
and ecstasies,
our ascent
and inevitable collapse -
like an electron's path -
the seeming chaos around which
the very substance of life is ordered?
Perfectly exact
and impossibly beautiful.
Too subtly complex
and achingly sweet
and elegantly designed
for our flawed eyes to see
and our blunt tongues to taste
and our stupid brains to comprehend?  

I wish the answer to these questions

was a matter of

simple chemistry
and basic physics
so that I could someday grasp
a single real thing.

But everyone knows
understanding the behavior
of tiny things

(like atoms)

And small things
(like me)
and large things
(like the moon)
requires the use
of three contradictory theories:
Quantum Theory

Classic Physics
and The Theory of Relativity.

 

So really
the fact that life makes no sense
and is weird
and hard
and often irreconcilable with itself
is perfectly reasonable.
This is, it turns out,
the only predictable outcome
of existing in our universe.

 

And probably

the best we can do 

is quietly ponder

the mysteries

crashing around

inside our own heads

and savor the pain

of uncertainty

and admire the beauty

of the alien moon

and embrace the inexplicable

effect it has on our tides

and accept this as proof

that no matter

how far apart we may feel

we are still connected

and always will be,

somehow,

illogically,

and hope that this

is the unutterable truth.

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