Nothing Poem by William Pryor
Nothing
There is nothing to say
but the words.
There is nothing to see
but the look
in his eyes.
There is nothing to hear
but his word
speaking.
This is the point:
before knowing his crucial something
we must be nothing.
The point of being here—
mysticism,
in the middle of our business,
knowing what we say
is nothing
and yet this loved ignorance is
how we are
going home.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/25/2024 8:19:13 AM # 1.0.0.1119
