the solace of being nothing

solace of being nothing

The afternoon came as an uninvited guest

in the midst of my being nothing,

the amputated pieces of sky I could see

together with the regret of two trees

     beyond the damp window

seemed like the tortured bell of noon

breaking the spell of a sleeping happiness

in the midst of my being nothing,

the possibility of daylight and tepid airs

of a world altogether alien and outside

marred the fictions of my desires:

      the slow inactivity of self

irrelevantly smiling to the amusements of time

but this light catalyzing the contours of weak objects

like a cold wave reaching the feet of my dream

in the midst of my being nothing,

the noise of what is external!

to exist no longer as a particle in the stream

but as an invisible swirl in the drift

       layers of inaudible music

as the touch of night

in the midst of my being nothing,

rooftops like the written words

        of forgotten minutes

outside, alike, trembling

in the midst of my being nothing.
 
 

 

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s