There's all sort of nothing inside of me-
valuable vacancies...emptiness of infinite worth;
transparent to intent or desire.
This is not emptiness I fear or regret...
this is not a mosaic of misery or pain;
it's emptiness so vast and deep it seems
eternal and permanent-
and capable of holding infinity
within its timeless embrace woven
from diaphanous hope and sharp edged
shattered fragments of dreams.
This magnificent void-this sunyata...
it gives the promise of never lacking
never needing.
Not the emptiness of nihilism or fatalism;
but the emptiness of the drinking cup-
that of the axle hub of the chakra-
that which holds the promise of never
ever being used up.
There's all sorts of nothing inside of me-
eternal emptiness...Indras net stretching
taut to catch me when i fall
victim to my own lack of understanding,
and I find myself consumed by laughter
playing on this celestial trampoline!

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