What If We Stopped?

What If We Stopped?

 

 

We count money. We count time. We count chromosomes.

We count strikes. We count verses. We count syllables. 

It counts nothing.

Still, It knows the hairs on your head, the sparrows in the barren hedge. 

 

We pattern our words; write our books, poems, and songs,

Trying desperately to speak.

It sings the song of the generations,

A melody beyond our ears reverberating throughout the trees.

 

We build, raising our towers ever higher, trying to leave our mark.

It surrounds us with the heavens, just beyond our pedestals. 

 

We are but mere Frankensteins grasping in the wind,

Trying to explain Its secrets, to perfect Its “problems.”

Yet our Monsters always kill themselves, fatefully flawed. 

 

What if we stopped counting, stopped speaking, stopped building, stopped explaining?

 

Maybe we would know what It knows:

It knows without knowledge, speaks with silence, builds from the dirt, creates from nothing. 

 

 

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