When I had nothing I was quite content. For nothing ever came and nothing ever went. I’d sit alone with nothing, left to my imagination. Nothing made me happy. It was a filling contemplation. I held onto nothing all day and all night. It was easy having nothing. Nothing just felt right. There was really nothing to it or at least nothing much. It wasn’t something seen or heard, nothing I could touch. It was a peaceful feeling from what I can recall For when I had nothing I really had it all. But somehow I lost nothing. I have nothing left to do except sit and long for nothing, for the feeling I once knew. I want for nothing daily. I’d like to hold it in my palm. I’d hold on to it so tightly. For nothing makes me calm. Sometimes I think of nothing and when I do I find it’s nice when nothing happens and nothing comes to mind.
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