Nothing stands. Before any arising Lies some falling. As if each instant Contains the seeds Of life and death. Yet, We go on believing In stone-like living As if each moment Is already indeed Fixed and set. We may see All coming All passing Still we long For something gone... As if fear Settles deep In mind's corners When faced With the breaking Of new matters. Yet, not even this stands... For the fall will come Then the rising... Until nothing stands...again! |



Sylvie talking about NOTHING again.. he he..

OK enough silly.. though you have to admit, Nothing starts and nothing ends your poem! LOL


And... of course.... NOTHING IS PERFECT! he he.. sorry, I just hadda add that.
Love and light being, Teo




