Out of nothing came a tree.
Not so age’d nor so young.
But with goodly branches spreading
In the center there, I sat.
On a nest of mystery spun.
Heart afraid of where it’s heading
Out of nothing came a sound.
Not a word nor melody.
Still. I hear it clearly singing
In a harmony I sit.
Out of nothing has it come.
From the nothing something ringing
Out of nothing came a stone
In my lap was white and round
That, my hand, is gently turning
Into nothing, will I go.
From the branches, stone and sound.
See, the nothing tree is burning
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 3:07 AM UTC
Out of nothing came a tree.
Not so age’d nor so young.
But with goodly branches spreading
In the center there, I sat.
On a nest of mystery spun.
Heart afraid of where it’s heading
Out of nothing came a sound.
Not a word nor melody.
Still. I hear it clearly singing
In a harmony I sit.
Out of nothing has it come.
From the nothing something ringing
Out of nothing came a stone
In my lap was white and round
That, my hand, is gently turning
Into nothing, will I go.
From the branches, stone and sound.
See, the nothing tree is burning