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