Measure Poem by Dhriti Chakraborty

What would be a measure
Of this space?
Could it be counted by what it has housed,
Or would what it could have held,
Potential,
Be a more reliable stick?
There are a thousand patterns
In my face that you cannot see,
And that even I only have a vague sense of.
When I am gone,
My ripple will last and last and last-
Who will be there to transcribe
The conversation with everything
That I do not know now?
What have I not done,
What have I not felt,
Some wise man may volunteer to confirm my suspicion:
Nothing.
And yet, I have a fear,
A shaking, something is incomplete.
This is a battle of vision-
At times I see what is true,
At others, fear makes me blind.
In moments of despair, I pray,
In moments of light, I pray,
My prayer is my measure