being nothing having nothing in the warm yellow light of passivity
makes you a meadow and a mark of grace
summer's gonna cum
he's gonna plant a seed of winter blossom in the belly of fall
dispel your nausea with a sip from the goblet of crystalline emptiness
and you shall quench your excess
you're a good motherfather you're a seeking morning glory in the night
meditating on their birthing pains with
a philsophy of prosperity in mind
a blind inward eye
ever gazing at nothing