Running On Empty
by Odin Roark

I remember the day,
when I brought myself
to learn the meanings,
how everything came by way
of Nothing’s daring.

Nothingness came out to join my walk
across Earth’s campus,
its silhouette of innate knowledge
taking the lead,
beckoning I follow
this Nothing with a shadow.

Calmly, Nothing whispered…

“Let your mind once again suckle your senses,
awaken them to your inner-self.”

I listened to my past.
I saw where I was today.
I touched my face to be sure.
I smelled the odor of inaction.
I tasted the bitterness of regret.

And then…

There came the nothingness rule of chance,
my willingness to severe attachments,
especially to Nothing’s shadow.

From the void,
an unexpected thunderous shock opened my belly,
where ashes of ignorance rose,
vanquished by the wind.

A downpour filled the cavity
bearing echoes urging I dig deep
“Find the root of your flower,
drench its dwindling life
by letting go what you are,
become what you might be."

Without warning,
the pitch black of transition
bore down asking I patiently search the void,
transcend into the heart of Nothing’s fullness,
accepting wisdom’s pulse
beneath the beat of the obvious.

“Hear it?

It’s getting louder.”