Nothing

It’s not nonchalant it’s not even just that.
It’s not even the house or the cat in the hat.

It’s not tying your shoe or a nice game of ball.
It’s the saddened dead eyes, or a mute person’s call.

It’s those times in life where we catch our own breath.
It’s bottled frustration or an endless cold death.

It’s not trying your best or winning at all;
It’s that time on the step where your foot didn’t fall.

It’s not noise of loud speakers or a strong person’s strum,
Nor the hum in a crowd, that one person’s hum.

It’s not people or planets or the stars and the moon.
It’s the endless abyss of your despairing old boon.

It’s not talking about anything or at all.
It’s not a dolphin’s or wolf’s loud longing love call.

It’s that time where you went under water a while.
It’s when you were too angry to even just smile.

And it can’t come with you and it can’t go with them.
It’s not pants that you wear that need a small hem.

It’s naked, it’s lightning but with no sort of sound.
It’s lightning that never came close to the ground.

Where the thunder was gone but the shadow did show.
It’s not knowing your friends, it’s not being too slow.

It’s not knowing thyself or to that self be true.
It is when you don’t know what the hell you should do.

It’s not colors or clocks or the winding of time.
It’s not his or not hers, and it’s probably not mine.

A crater with air where the rock falls down fast;
But you don’t hear the noise after that rock is cast.

And you leave and you walk wondering where it did go.
Because certainly we should already just know.

And we carry on thus with the time and all things,
And we wonder just what this next year will bring,

Without thinking at all that it’s nothing at all,
That we never will know just when we will fall.

For it’s not this long poem or the words on this sheet.
And it’s not the next person that you’re certain to meet.

It’s that sound when a dead leaf, when falling, will make.
It’s that sound when no wind is touching the lake.

It’s that time when you die, when you feel so damn small,
For it truly is nothing, just nothing at all…

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