So many small changes are happening
Everywhere and all at once, including
All our efforts to chase down and count them
In hopes of predicting where they’ll be next.
They add up as we add them; they add up
Faster than we add them, as we are them.
A boater, bobbing on the waves, knows not
To try to count every last one of them.
Summing constrains equivalence, while waves
Surge, sink, and surge but can’t be fixed, unless
We pretend. And oh how we can pretend.
We were born for pretense and we get bored
Merely paying attention. One dead leaf
Shifts a handspan in a wave of the wind.
The rain falls, then dries, Radnóti noticed.
Consider the tiny agitations
Of the world. Waves can be combined in ways
That localized particles never can.