Nothing
No one crowds the empty streets wandering aimlessly from window to window
looking at nothing in particular.
No one is unaware that something is missing.
No one feels nothing but doesn’t know what that means because
no one feels anything anymore and Nothing can’t be compared to something if that something doesn’t exist in no one’s world.
No one listens to music without lyrics or beat or melody and doesn’t notice
that it really isn’t music at all.
No one talks to anyone because there’s no point in talking when there are no questions to ask and no answers to ponder, so no one’s music is truly the sound of silence.
No one masters the art of Nothing and doing Nothing and feeling Nothing and being Nothing.
No one looks at a grey canvas amidst all the other grey paintings and perfectly square grey sculptures and believes that it reflects all that art has to offer because nothing else is
on display in No one’s world.
No one reads the poem over and over because it’s really just a hodgepodge of nothings that mean nothing in the grand scheme of Everything.
Copyright © Emily Teale | Year Posted 2016
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