You are nothing
nothing but a slight light
nothing but everything but what you are.
Yet you are something
you must be something?
For your meanings are streaming
your regal feel,
a star of injured award of war,
a bruise that looms
from sort of doom!
You are everything.
In every lashing of light you lie
reflected corrected then read by the eye
subjected to infected ‘definition’.
You are everything.
You are black, green, blue,
red yellow orange too.
But then you are nothing.
Just a pattern of letters and syllables,
no more than a thought
thought long before I hand a chance to see.
You are mine.
I disregard that, which was before
let the letters leave
let me lament what I see.
For you are mine.
Persistent in what you are,
Utterly unlawful to change,
Repeatedly ruining, the renitence of shame,
Perpetually poisoning the marriage of red and blue,
Lethargically lying in a rainbow too,
Every entity I see is you.
For you are light,
as am I,
thus I am yours,
thus we are everything,
and, in the dark
we are nothing.