There’s an air of nothingness that sits within. A personal void under my skin for me to return to at any and every time. Waking up, preparing for work, talking with my parents, or looking into my lover’s eyes. I feel it following me, this empty drum. A droning kind of drum that offers nothing but offerings, which is to say it takes everything too.
I don’t know where it came from, and I don’t know what it does, but the nothingness echoes to me like prayers in the clouds above. “What is it that you seek?” I always wonder, thinking about ‘think’. We try to fill the nothingness with words and spoken deeds, but it shows us only nothingness, the hollowness we need. An impetus on which we feed to produce more compost for future spoken deeds and needs of action. It is both a wishing well, and a giving tree. The sun’s rays, and the earth’s dirt. The executioner, and the mid-wife. It comes only after it has went, but it never moves. The nothingness I know couldn’t go, because there’s nowhere to go when there’s nothing to do.
What is this double vision? I see a world of possibility before me in which every branch and limb stems forth from its own affirmation of life, yet they are all doomed to die. This world of color and light shines like the bright stars at night, but they are only seen because of the shroud of darkness. And me, just plain me, neither savior king nor death did I bring, but within my own is a nothingness home to all the meaning in the world.
Remove everything and nothing remains. Remove nothing and everything is a claim. Don’t ask for answers to impossible questions. It’s not that the questions can’t be answered, just, the nothingness can’t be told. It can’t be sold or bought, not even fought. It is where and when it wants, but it wants nothing. I see through the I’s desire. The perceived lack of satisfaction or fire hides a more “whole/some” picture rewired by a liar to give the false notion of something to which we can retire. What a silly little liar. Listen closely, for this is truth. There is not a place in existence which nothingness cannot touch, not a sound to be heard nor a sight to be seen which nothingness cannot clutch. Life is a vacuum, and nothingness is the all. You only see the surface until, to nothingness, you fall.