i cannot tell you
how much i love this extra ordinary life,
how much i burst at the seams with gratitude
for the giants with whom i dance. 

(i love in biblical proportions.)

nor how much i love the instinctual way
my hand reaches for yours,
or how much i long to appease your silent fears,
to show you your worth until you feel it
burning in your hallowed bones.

i cannot tell you
how much we have to learn,
but i know where and how it begins.
 
i cannot tell you how much i love the light
that daily comes nudging me to life,
or the comfort of the moon. or the fluency
with which we speak unspoken languages,

because sometimes 
even the words fail to express the fullness
of a heart.

because to say 'how much' 
deludes one
into thinking it can be measured...