Make Sense of Life

Numbers measure my days,
the clock ticks, calendars get spent
the steps I count to the market.
They help me make sense of life,
each digit a rung on the ladder
toward meaning.

Yet infinity waits,
a horizon I cannot touch,
a silence beyond calculation.

So I compare, because comparison is comfort:
my 8 against the neighbor’s 6,
a small victory, a proof that I exist in relation,
not alone in the vast equation.

I hold my finite sums
like fragile beads on a string,
knowing infinity will always slip
through my limited intelligence


Poetics

14 thoughts on “Make Sense of Life

  1. ‘So I compare, because comparison is comfort:
    my 8 against the neighbor’s 6,
    a small victory, a proof that I exist in relation,
    not alone in the vast equation.’

    What adbhut thoughts come to your mind?

    Excellent poem.

    Liked by 1 person

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