Nothing

Nothing stands in crops of air, A silent whisper, an empty stare. No words to say, no breath to hold, No tale to tell, no truth be told. In no dark, in no light, It doesn't wrong, it doesn't right. No path to walk, no self to face, Just drifting thought in a blank space. No voice, no sound, no silent hush, No thorny rose, no snowy slush. It wears no name, it holds no form, No calm, no chaos, peace, or storm. Yet here it sits, this hollow thing, Not song, not cry, not anything. A space between the pulse and breath Not life, nor sleep, not even death. So here’s to Nothing, A simple stride A silent sea of meaningless tide. A canvas blank, a dream unspun, Where all begins, and all’s undone.