Nothing comes of nothing.

Nothing can. Confused,

you wonder How so? and squint

 

through the lens of zero

back to the space

where nothing occurred

 

and then became

a cipher, a counter, a word,

the neat trick aligning

 

the numbers, harnessing

power. Step by step

in bleak regression

 

instinct fails to hit

the wall or find the door

that never opens

 

onto a view

explaining it all, the blank

where memory started.

 

If nothing begins

nothing ends. That’s the dark

sense of circles,

 

the noose containing

all there is.

So what’s the matter

 

and what is it

that sets the world

and you spinning?

 

If nothing’s created

nothing’s destroyed.

The ripples

 

never reach the buffers.

How far can echoes travel?

How long till they are heard?

 

The breath rises

then subsides.

The fiery star flickers.