nothing special

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[Older poem. Form is Emptiness, Emptiness is Form. A poem maybe like a spotlit bird by the ocean, prances a little, picks at prey, gone. Each uniquely nothing special in its own way. Photo taken near Bawley Point on the NSW south coast. A Cartier-Bressonian photographic ‘moment’, and then it’s gone.]

nothing special

each something is
a celebration of the nothing
that supports it
(John Cage)

here we are together then
in chaos chipping away
at blocks of meaning

remembering
nothing
special

waves of space
edge
these lines

walking their silence
picking up shelled
whorls of sound

a polished pebble
a bit of net
sea-smooth driftwood

from that space
the salt breeze points to
without horizon

like a poem
celebrating
its firm nothing

as it fades
back into the sea
it never was, ever

is

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~ by Peter Lach-Newinsky on March 31, 2016.

2 Responses to “nothing special”

  1. space and form…air and earth…illusion and concrete…?
    i’m still compelled to try and form meaning out of space…!

    • Thanks, Kristi. I think ‘space’ in the usual, 3D-sensory sense is probably more a metaphor for the Buddhist notion of Emptiness (sunyata), which latter correlates more with western mystic notions like ‘Godhead’ or ‘Ground’ or ‘Absolute’… That which cannot be thought because it is not a thought but that within which thoughts arise and fade… May sound highfalutin and abstract but is actually present every time we step back from our thoughts and watch watch them arise and pass, arise and pass, instead of immediately identifying with them as we usually do 24/7… Emptiness as The Witness…

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