Nothing begins nowhere, not here, not there,
Quiet nights echoing unuttered words,
No news to convey, no kisses to share,
Night without chimes, morning empty of birds.
Should I be lost with nothing to offer,
Elated that nothing is peace for now
As nothing but thin air lines my coffer?
Nothing is truth, nothing is free, somehow.
Quiet, do you hear something, anything?
Loud thoughts provoking smiles, words, songs sticking?
No, no, I hear nothing, oh, but one thing.
I can hear the clock tick, tick, tick, ticking.
Still nothing happens when nothing is done
Despite all the wonders under the sun.
Copyright © 2013 Shainbird. All rights reserved.
NaNoWriMo Day 4: 1732