It Was Nothing

Yet, it was there.

What was its purpose?

It was not a rock façade.

It did wrinkle weather.

Whether To Be or Naught,

They occupied living space,

And therefore -

Must be something.

But what, pray tell?

Seems they are nothing.

But this birth certificate,

With a name inscribed on it.

That somehow it fades away

But Still time stamps a place.

Yet, it was nothing.

It seemed To Be -

A placemat -

Being walked on.

You know, what the name is.

Why the name, is on the tip,

Of your blank mind frame.

Was it friend, family – foe?

Its face looks, so famil-liar.

Their reflection looks back.

You seek that deep depth.

Who are they?

That mimics me -

And My -

Reversal image.

 (Notice anything in the picture above?)