I am not enough…

I am not enough
in my cycling mind.
I, in my revolving door of
understanding my surroundings.
I am in.  I am out.
I am frugal.  I am lavish.
I am basic.  I am stifling.
I am so much, so many,
but I am missing parts.
I am not enough.
I am missing my Enough.
The part that makes complex
smooth and filling and satiating.
I do not find Enough in my analysis,
my misperceptions,
my cock-eyed conceptions,
my dandy sensibilities,
Or my Watching too closely of my world.
I do not find Enough, so heavy and matter-ing
like the sea, easily.  Not quickly.
Not in carousel rides
or roller coaster thrills–so free-ing.
No. Not in writing. Nor reading. Nor anything I seek. And though I do not know exactly
where Enough dwells.  I believe
I start to find Enough in my ears.  Simply there at the sides of me.
In the listening to waves, breaths, bee buzzes,
and sometimes somebody’s distant guitar picking.
Oh burrow into my ears, Enough.