NO-THING-NESS
A play on life – or is it death – or maybe just words.
Except it is real – this no-thing-ness place.
It has no light, no sound,
No smell, no feel, no taste.
No beginning and no ending.
And, thankfully, no other people.
At first, I thought it was death.
Then I come back.
No-thing-ness is a dilemma.
For me it is real.
By definition, it is not.
If it is nothing, then it is not anything.
Yet I know when I am not.
The moments that feel like years
Then back again
In and out, lost and found, dead and alive.
I savor the moments when I can still pretend.
I write a poem and perform an entire play.
I am fine, then slip away and return. Again.
There will be one time, I know.
Yes, just one. It will come.
When I slip away into that no-thing-ness.
And stay.
Samuel A. Simon © 2024-2025
Except it is real – this no-thing-ness place.
It has no light, no sound,
No smell, no feel, no taste.
No beginning and no ending.
And, thankfully, no other people.
At first, I thought it was death.
Then I come back.
No-thing-ness is a dilemma.
For me it is real.
By definition, it is not.
If it is nothing, then it is not anything.
Yet I know when I am not.
The moments that feel like years
Then back again
In and out, lost and found, dead and alive.
I savor the moments when I can still pretend.
I write a poem and perform an entire play.
I am fine, then slip away and return. Again.
There will be one time, I know.
Yes, just one. It will come.
When I slip away into that no-thing-ness.
And stay.
Samuel A. Simon © 2024-2025