Poetic Licence


(Photo: Inside the observatory museum of Nicholas Copernicus in Frombork, Poland)

“If it can’t be measured, it doesn’t exist!”
Said with a straight face
and a laced down mind.
A killer punch delivered with authority
in a high stakes brawl over who owns reality.

Clever instruments invade nature
and measure, reduce, label, explain . . .
what exactly?
You assume
everything meaningful is measurable.
But is everything that is measurable meaningful
when what can’t be measured, can’t exist?

You may choose to
define intellect with numbers;
limit truth to a galvanic skin response
and explain beauty in mathematical proportions.
I sat with a dead child’s parents
and couldn’t dismiss their grief with a formula.
Do you ignore what you can’t measure,
because when it can’t be measured . . . it doesn’t exist?

Why do you assume so?
Who made your instruments the touchstone?
After all,
if assumptions can’t be measured, they don’t exist.


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