We have so many means of measurement,
Not one of them close to adequate.
Can you feel even a minute as such,
As single, unique, solitary, whole?
Try paint, try language, try photography,
Try film, scent, virtual reality,
The happening of things can only be
Remade as yet another happening.
Count the millions of moments you have lived.
They are not beyond calculating,
And you experienced every one of them,
Or an awareness you assume was you
Experienced all you've now forgotten.
That's it. We can only enumerate
All that we just felt, all we already
Forgot we felt we could no longer feel.
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