The Poet Speaks Of Nothing


Like hour glass sand

I slip through a tiny space

and the devil is dancing

on the details

of my past.


Like light speeding

through space unseen

looking for a surface

to illuminate. I won't

find it for a hundred

thousand years. 


Like nothing, the die

hits the wall and low

beholds the deed,

and astonished, I watch

the wall as it crumbles.







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