The existence of Nothing
A vast vaccum extending

A tiny twinkle, disrupts the peace,
Lingers for a while
Slowly, yet surely, Darkness engulfs
To light, it is hostile

Travelling, through the cosmos
Where is my planet,
Where is the chaos?
Isn’t that all that matters,
My home, my abode?

Eyes shut
Eyes open wide
Moving ahead
Moving behind
In emptiness,
No difference is made
Apprehensive and afraid

Floating through space
Experiencing solace
A cluster of stars, or is it? A planet, an astroid
The sun we worship, an irrelevant speck
In a gigantic field of black, a dot in this abyss?

The noble
The poor
The happy
The sick
The talented
The artists
The writers
The scholars
Where are they

On this iota of a fleck?
On this miniscule grain?
Trying hard to be significant
It seems to be all in vain

In infinite isolation, he stands.
His thoughts, his emotions
Are of prime importance
He yearns for more, more
Of what he has in abundance

Yet, to this ocean, just another ephermal ball of gas
Soon to be engulfed
Along with its richness and perfection, its need and want
And of course, with its desperate attempt to daunt

It soon perishes, eaten by the dark.
There still sustain many irrelevant dots
Making no impact, no mark
At least they don’t believe themself to be
The center of Nothing.

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