Poetry and science 7 – fibonacci poem

How

do

I weigh

this sorrow.

What is the volume

of grief, can this house contain it?

Some people say that the universe is made of love.

Others say it’s mathematics that matters and reality is what we measure.

If I close my eyes, my gaze is boundless, size is meaningless, and sadness is reckoned by the heart’s imperfect clock, a mind that can’t keep count.

Karen Dennison

First published in the fib review.

Featured image – Raymondprucher, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons