This is a poem full of nothingness,
Because nothingness is what I see.
Moving through the crowds, zombie-like,
There is nothingness around me.
There is no revelation for me to awaken.
A child complaining, a mother frustrated,
A lover kissing his lover, the spouse waiting home,
A person laughing of another person’s blunder,
You running late to buy that present you don’t care to buy,
The nothingness we proudly or sadly call our lives.
A broken pencil, a dying flower in a base,
A painter with no muse, a clown crying inside,
The late missed opportunity; the one that doesn’t come,
The nothingness that kills us before our turn to die.
We walk we sit we laugh we cry, we roam around.
Our sadness invades us, and our happiness liberates us.
Our hearts turned to ice, our brains ready to fight,
Our fear for the dark, and our love for the light,
The light full of lies, the dark that comforts us.
The beauty of life, the certainty of having to die,
The nothingness we know we will all become…
B. Meza (C) 12/08/16