The big feeling

When you realize you are feeling
a moment fading into all the moments
that preceded it,
and you must try, impossibly, to describe
the big feeling,
a thing apart from your self,
or, perhaps,
as close to it as humanly possible:
like when looking through a microscope
and realizing that each magnification shows
we only know so much of anything,

The big feeling that is life's disappearing,
into the many echoes
of each moment, somehow touching
across the vast expanse,
the one that lead you here,

Where you stop to witness
the minute spectacle of time's expression;
the familiar creaking of wind against wood panels,
branches whipping in those gusts
casting wild shadows on your wall,

The big feeling coaxing the world towards
a surreal stillness, tentative and aware,
flooding through all the chances, that through the guarantees
of your quantum existence
the marvelous truth rises:

that this is all so beautiful you will die
if you do not try and express it,
but if you try and express this moment
it will die.