there is an emptiness
at the bottom; at the end
of every beginning.
there is an emptiness.
and all the noise, and all the colour,
and all the words, and all the views,
the incessant moving of pedestrians and cars ,
jet planes, and cruise liners,
the constantly changing -as- i- blink perspectives
of commentators tuned to stations
satellited across oceans and land mass,
the contributions
of philosophers and scientists past and present,
all lists of all sorts,
amount to something
close to the beginning
of every emptiness.
and we all know this,
at the beginning. all life
is returned to what will become
a new beginning.
and all my life
i am running backwards,
to the beginning,
and away
from the emptiness.
