terms of measurement

some terms of measurement are too small to weigh our histories. the feelings that build up over time. the time it takes to completely understand these feelings. sometimes galaxies are too small.

i find myself doing a lot of counting these days. counting down, counting up, counting out everything i have and have coming and have been. sometimes it's near impossible to see beyond the tally marks. too see beyond the miles now behind us. to see anything any better coming up upon us. horizons are such blurry lines. like mirages, mired by the burning sun. you divert your eyes to something easier to see. we strain to make the most of where we've been, so the future isn't so bad for business. so worrisome. so wearying.

our hearts speed up and slow down, moving of their own volition. to protect us. to resurrect us. to cool us down and heat us up. its only in feeling our hearts might just explode that we ever realize this. it's frightening; when you put your hand to your heart, you can actually feel it beating. you can feel your life. the basis of your existence. the circumference of every ache and joy and pain you've ever experienced. right there, beneath your unsteady hand. you can count the beats. you can feel the speed. and make of it what you will.

today i woke up with a sore throat. today i woke up utterly exhausted. from tossing and turning and palpitations and murmurs. i woke up completely spellbound. we try to find reasons. meaning to the events that have unfolded. we try to make sense of everything that has and has failed to occur. we try to negotiate happenstance. we try to measure out the incongruencies of our plans and reality. we try to live up to our follies.

i'm supposed to be on my way to mexico right now. i was supposed to be a lot of things that i wasn't. there is no accurate way to measure all that has passed and will be and might have been. no way to measure the distance from here to there and back again; of all the places we might have been and somehow are. no way to measure the gallons of blood my heart has pumped, by nature, for protection, in my own inabilities. there is no way to place the exact time and location that blood changed. no device to indicate when it stopped saving me and started hurting me. there aren't enough galaxies to measure the moments that come and go and change us and our lives. that change the routes we take and the people we become.

i find myself doing a lot of counting these days. for balance. for self-assurance. for peace. perhaps to assure i can measure and, thus, control some faucet of my existence. i count the boats and the birds, as i cross the bridges in the quiet of morning. i count the steps from one place to another. i count the days, as they slide from the calendar; like ice in this summer sun. sparkling and shining, but silently disappearing into puddles at our feet. and then evaporating away. out of grasp. out of reach. nothing to no one.

i count the beats of my heart, to measure the murky waters of my emotions. i imagine the slaving ships sailing around, trying to find a safe place to tie down. to tie us down. to take us in. out and into the blurry horizons ahead. our hands clasped to unsinkable memories. clasped to hardened realities. to all that we cannot change nor control. to all that surrounds us, so carelessly.

i was supposed to be on my way. i was supposed to be a lot of things. but the courses have changed and our ships have sailed. i quietly count them as i cross the bridges in the early morning sun. before it shines too bright to be seen. somewhere they'll be arriving soon. and i'll be here, counting down the days. counting the days away. counting the ways we've outnumbered ourselves. even though there are no terms of measurement great enough to measure us up.