Deep within, it lies awake.
Turning, twisting, screeching to obtain recognition.
Nothing.
Burning, waiting to ignite a flare so that it can scar.
Nothing.
Blackish, grayish... not even a definitive color.
No way to be categorized except...
Nothing.
Memories of good fortune vaporize into tiny particles of dust and are swept away,
Ideas and caring thoughts are vacuumed by this dark matter and are buried in an endless collection of ...
Nothing.
My tears release frustration and confusion, only products of nothing.
The nothingness is still there.
Singing, writing, hacking away at this structure made completely out of nothing.
Raging, meditating...
Only to gain nothing.
Nothing is in me.
I am nothing.
I have solved the puzzle and all that is left is...
Nothing.
copyright(c)Crystal-Rain Love 2003
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Reviews of "Nothing"
Reviewed by jan nunn (Reader)
Reviewed on November 18, 2003
I like this ..it's as right for good days as well as bad ..well written
This book represents a thirty-day period of my poetry journal. Each poem addresses
the dominant thoughts occupying my mind during the early morning hours of a given
day.