NaPoWriMo 1: Am I really doing this again?

I must be mad. Here's one based on a prompt from a few weeks back:

Quantum

There were days when she

felt everything to be surreal,

days of disassociation from

the world around her, nights

where her hand was not her

hand and the connection between

the woman who thought and

spoke and the flesh that

carried those proclamations

of identity seemed

overwhelmingly tenuous.

One morning she sat in

a garden in the sun and

silence listening to the

sound of her heart and her

breathing and felt everything

receding until rational

experience shrank into a

single strand on the woven

fabric of the universe.

She could not explain who

she was nor how she

had come to be here, any

more than she could explain

the Bumble Bee humming

nearby nor the mildew on

the shaded side of the

wall against which she

was leaning.

From paralysis and division

there somehow grew

an awareness that

some things are best

not thought too deeply

about. Some matters are

best left to surrender and

acceptance and a trust

that somewhere something

or someone must have

some kind of plan.

Because regardless of

her perception of

separation or otherwise

the world stubbornly

continued to go on

its own business, refused

to collapse in response

to a simple crisis of

self and confidence.

Because in fact she

was not other,

merely but not simply

part of an unquantifiable

whole.