So I sat silently singing songs
that moved no air
                           but blew in my mind like a hurricane
that altered no view
                            but maybe my own
that stained no soul
                            but mine and mine alone

a thought I had nurtured
that had grown
polished and pure as a pearl
created by the incessant irritation
due to its unfinished nature

this is the wonder
that pushes my pen
like a mugger in the night
this thought took from me
and left a lacking in its being gone

This space ached to be filled
and thus the story begins
not with the idea
but with the wake and the ripple it left
in its passing through my soul

It was as if nothing had suddenly
been granted life
it was no longer a formless concept
but a beast breathing mist upon my soul
it is mine; me; now us
kind of like not being 20 feet tall
is mine; me; now us

so now sit words before you
set down by a part-time poet
using nothing as his muse
(not any nothing, but the
loud stomping echoes of nothing
sneaking unceremoniously out of my mind)
as each leaves it is replaced
by another mist breathing beast
and so it starts again
with a different colored nothing

and so it goes
like waves
                  one
                           after
                                     another
coming from places unknown
going to die on a beach unseen
it ends with a final powerful embrace

the wave dies on a beach it knew it would love
even though
it had never seen its often touched sand
and when the act of blind(ing) love
is done
the beach sits and waits
for its next ****** lover