I half-expected there to be nothing. I imagined there was nothing and hoped I’d be correct. The nothingness I expected was there yes, but, but the darkness was not; no darkness, there was no darkness, not like the poets said there would be, there was nothing. Nothing was more beautiful than any verse ever written by any artist. This sweet, empty nothing, hugging into my bones, cushioning my heart, opening my eyes to all that once mattered and all that matters now; inferno. An inferno of open space, an inferno left out there, out there just so I could see, could feel, could sense; I loved that inferno, I loved what it possessed; but why nothing? All that we’re left with is this; dark after light, light after dark, inferno in these bones, inferno in this heart. 

I’ll return again to this place, I’ll return once I’ve met with the nothingness, I’ll return again, again with nothing and the whole world will scream with joy. 


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