You Are Nothing
You are nothing, they told you.
Indeed, it is truththough probably not as they meant it.
You are nothing, like the air is nothing
As it sweeps in iridescent whorls round our blue-streaked home;
You are nothing, like the great breathing Cosmos is nothing;
Inconceivable void, keeper of secrets;
You are nothing, like the pause before the breaking of the day;
Like the hush into which an orchestra plays its first note;
You are nothing, as we all are nothing
Infinite in our Nothingness, mere imaginers of the Possible
And out of that, my friend, springs All.