Too Complicated

Life is too complicated for me to understand.
I can't keep track of my atoms,
or number the cells in the tip of my pinkie.
I can't even see the quarks
dancing in my eyeball. 
At night, when I'm sleeping, who breathes me?
Who beats my heart, and how much do I owe them?
Who orders my neurons to fire in synchrony
when I laugh or cry?
In the morning, who shouts at my pituitary,
"Less water, more fire!"
I asked a scientist to explain it.
He couldn't measure the light-years
stretching through a single carbon atom.
I asked a priest, but he just mumbled
in some lost language full of M's.
How do you expect me to balance my checkbook
when I can't even figure out
who performs the miracle of this body?

Image: Self-portrait of the mad zen master Hakuin