Nothing

This poem has multiple interpretations. I never reveal my mindset while writing a piece or tell a poem's true meaning, because most of mine simply don't have one. Poetry shouldn't held by one belief.

You ask a lot of questions, I have noticed that before. Your biggest fear always seems to be the unknown, is that why you are here? You are so unsure of yourself that you stare into this mirror trying to relinquish your anxiety, yet you are too afraid of what you will find inside of me. Do not let your eyes graze, peer into the black of your pupils and I will show you light… I will help you understand your mind.

Because your mind is wearied by unrelenting, unforgiving distrust of the universe you live in.  

                

You see, life is just prolonging the inevitable; swirling around in a world filled with lies within truths and truths within lies, slowly succumbing to fate but too stubborn to just fade away.

You realize too late, that your life is simply death, stretched out in a line convulsing with greed and animosity, suffocated and squeezed of its filth until drops of purity fall only to rise again into flowers pelted with rain, waiting to emerge from the dirt as the matted tears of your reign quench the thirst of your people and evolution quells the construction of your childish steeples.

You are bent on self-reliance, determined to secure your position as the greatest society but when pain and grief strike you call out to the world wanting retribution, then you relish the moment where enemies are wiped out by a single act of nature, a misfortune so nonsensical and random that it must be divine intervention.

Even still, there is a stinging sensation of relief as massacres and genocides unfold and you cannot be held accountable. You blame me and fight my existence when I do your dirty work for you. My position, my timeless fortitudes and unaged apathy is lost and misrepresented.

I corral your spirit; I see through your facades, your tales are pointless. There are at least four angles to every story and if your walls could talk, they would probably still ignore me. But I am more than just a worthless polemic or a misguided harangue. I am the voices that sang as you mulled over the pain. I am the questions you ask, the uneasiness, the doubts you cannot contain.

So why have you come to me?

Well, I am the reason for everything, I am fundamental logic… but I hold no answers. You look to me expecting them, but I can only reciprocate questions.

My story entwines heaven, the creation, it weaves unending time and the infinite paths that confine me. There is a piece of me inside of you, it defines your humanity, it submerges your primal instinct. I was there for it all.

I remember when humanity first came, and then went, drowning in their egos, trying to categorize chaos, playing ill-fated games. Your egocentrics arose, encased the scent of sense and captured the globe. You sprayed your mindsets across the youthful faces and invigorated the self-hate that came so naturally.

Forcing simplicity to collapse, invented pain, joy, fear; running laps around the rules developed before. Thinking that an imaginary grip will stay, retaining the ignorance you were born with.

You overestimated yourself, chaos, you let it through. It broke down your walls of order and flowed throughout, misery, pain, defeat; all ran through you with the burden of dirty hands and harrowing feats. Shaking through life a couple years at a time, struggling with the notion that it is all in vain. But the blood in your veins, a concept even I cannot comprehend, flows deeply in your hearts and disallows repeating it again.

I see your sweat and your age, the swallows of sin, your yearning for truth, so passionate you construe lies to fit what you believe in. You forgot that subjugation of the weak is not a display of strength, and you seemed to convey power by forcing unfair and egregious fights. The truth is, you have been broken and misled since your conception.

There is no structure or sense to the false comradery you have developed amongst yourselves. You invoke the worst, you awaken and represent your demons, you wear them with pride and you shine falsified light on your spoken word.

You deny me, yet you know me. I coexist with your refusal to accept, your incessant need for self-adornment infused with your abhorrent naiveté. You balance on righteousness but delve in immorality. Yet somehow you always succeed in advancing, of moving along with your unalienable faults.

You tremble like your fault lines, unwilling to move and resisting the implosion of your dangerously compacted egos. Trekking through your gray areas, in your short lifespan you manage to err in basic fact; it is unnerving, your ignorance, and you still heighten try to your importance.

You expect.

You expect abdication. You expect alleviation. You allocate your insecurities, inconsistently passing the blame to one another. You expect more than you are worth. And through all this mess that you have created, you ignore your origins.

I am in you, in you all. I am the sound of the earth spinning in the vastly unknown and unbelievable space, I am the whisper of regret, the blissful ennui,

I am engrossed in the touch of your life’s irony,

I am what you seek, I am all your unanswerable questions, I am the truth in your lies, the bleak malaise of your days, I am the feeling of drowning in it all, I am the rush of glory from prevailing, the vindictive eyes in the mirror,

I am the white on your palms and the black in your scars, I am the dots in the sky and the void in your hearts, I am the beginning and end,

I am the meaning of life, I am why you all live and die,

I am pestilence and war, I control the rich and the poor, I am the meaning of life, I am the meaning of life,

I’m the only true thing encoded in your lies, I am the empty space in time, all the unfilled holes, I am the reason you all live and die, I am the meaning of life,

I, am wholly and utterly, nothing.    

Author's Note

Critique is HIGHLY appreciated and needed. I love to receive feedback and to learn new and better ways to entertain readers. Thank you for reading my work, and hopefully you will come back and read my next piece which should be available soon.

Reviews

[Dead]

This is an amazing write :) and honestly I wouldn't change anything.

[Kelsey Ann]

What I took from this poem is that people are always seeking answers to their problems from other people, instead of looking within themselves to find the answers because they're afraid they won't find any. So they fill their lives with psychological distractions - like nostalgia - "thinking that an imaginary grip will stay" because they're also afraid that nothing will motivate them to keep on going forward in life. Little do they know, only they can answer their own questions. Thank you for a great read!