to find beauty in nothingness
surpasses all human might
and yet we can still muster that
tiny tiny tiny
part of us that yearns to be
acknowledged, but never truly
makes itself known, to be
itself for once, not known,
but merely itself.
for in all of us, inherently evil beings,
lies the might (might, i say, love)
to find beauty in nothingness,
for everything and nothing is
everything and nothing.
the universe expands everyday
stretching stretching stretching
and our souls sing everyday
for the nothingness of beauty marks
the essence of who and what
we are.
the endless craving to feel something
when all the night offers up with cracked
palms and
bleeding
fingernails is
nothing nothing nothing
nothingness is beauty (my, love, find, beauty)
and beauty is enamoured by the divine.
it is divine.
