Nothing

23/01/2021 - Poem a Day



Where is there nothing

That I cannot see or hear

Or touch with my hands

But only know by its absence?



The not having physicality

And yet embodied within

All that exists and will exist

And all that has ever been.



What concept is this

That tiny bees understand

Yet worries the minds

Of great thinkers?



The blank page,

The starting point

That is nowhere to be found

But in our own mind.



Has there ever truly been

Absolutely nothing

In this universe

That we call home?



Before the expansion of the universe

Before even the singularity

Where, unbridled, nothing existed

In no time and no place.



If I have an empty jug

That I fill from an empty glass,

Am I still left with nothing to show

From my endeavours?



My notion of nothing is predicated

On my sense of something

And its absence being required

For there to be nothing.



And what would I do with my empty jug,

Holding nothing of substance

But existing in its entirety

Of holding its place in the world?



That nothing I perceive is not nothing

But the somethings beyond my vision,

Smaller than human sight can recognize,

The somethings that edge towards nothing.



Yet where would technology be

Without the existence of nothing,

Without zero to fill the space

Left by all the ones?



This unassuming number

Is not, in fact, simply nothing

But everything to our society

Which relies on its value.



Zero cannot be the loneliest number,

That is left to one on its own

Because what is zero

But the deficiency of form?



That which has no form cannot be

But in its absence is –

A contradiction in its reality

Which fills and takes away.



It is a notion, an idea, a concept

That owns the vacated space

Where objects were or will be

But currently are not.



What is a donut without it’s nothingness,

Its absence of form at its centre,

Creating a perfect circle

Representing everything and nothing.



Its form bounding the formless,

It’s nothingness contingent

Of the presence of something

By which it is compared.



Is it the hole, rather than the whole,

In which all knowledge is contained

And, having no mass, no size or dimensions,

May go on until infinity?



But infinity …



        Well …



                That’s another story.