It is something
A nothing and everything
A thing without form
A sense of something
Perhaps that which to hold on
Never, never there
Absence - no such thing
Emptiness cannot exist
Always the other
Do or not - a choice
Yes, the simplest of all
No, par to the task
Now a present breeze
Not all leaves go the same way
Always moving, always
Then each comes to halt
Not nothing ceases at being
A state of change
In a truth, a point
Then noise returns in whisper
And motion again
I found this scribbled in a small notebook I used as a phonebook back in the late 80's. But it is in my hand; I don't know...
The recollection of the moment fails me...
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