One dawn, I came alive to Nothing.

The Nothing was hot
Fevering
A screaming tea kettle left burning on the stove’s
Orange flaring right hand.

Nothing was raging, demanding
Nothing had opinions and thoughts and much
Much talk.

Through the bedroom shutters
Nothing scoops the dust grains
Swirl the sand beams ceaseless
Floating carelessly in the light.

Nothing moves the sun across the sky
Nothing brings about the night.

All the Nothing, is smoking
I breathe in the black cloud.

I pray for nothing.