Beautifully Becoming Nothing
And she flies, holding the nothing of space,
Grasping at the nothing of air,
She flies through the cloud, the nothing holding her up,
Sweeping through all of her hair.
And her mind disappears for all of the then,
Vanishing without a thought,
Leaving her alone, floating without any actual idea,
Her “self” simply summing to nought.
Even gravity leaves her alone in each moment,
Each moment holding her frame,
That eternal moment stretching forever to her,
Forever in a twinkling short game.
Her arms, her legs, body, head and her feet,
And her beautiful locks of long hair,
In moments, of each day, is all she’s become,
A lost ghost floating around on the air.
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