A gift of nothing from no one
Awaits me deep in the forest
Of withered trees and dry foliage,
Of echoes of long-dead songs
/
I look across the glass river,
The banks of which are my playground,
Whose liquid glass is my water,
Whose changing name is unknown
/
I look across at the forest,
Waiting for the gliding ferry
To come and dock at my threshold
So I could welcome Him home
/
He brings me voices of strangers
And coins from faraway countries;
He tells me stories of people,
Whom only He could have known
/
He says one day he will give me
My gift of nothing from no one,
And on that day He will tell me
The river’s name and His own
P.S.: Something to listen to if you liked the poem
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isle_of_the_Dead_%28Rachmaninoff%29
I did enjoy the poem and will give a listen to the music next…thanks!
You’re welcome! ‘The Isle of the Dead’ is a beautiful piece of music. Hope you like it, too.
A gift of nothing from no one appears to be that way to all but the receiver
Interesting comment, Carl! The receiver knows no more than anyone else about the gift and the ‘no one’ it is from but he/she wants to know. The speaker is driven to have the gift by childlike curiosity mixed with an understanding that the gift isn’t likely bring much joy. Even if the gift is indeed just a big chunk of nothing (or worse), it is still valuable to the receiver insofar as it increases his/her knowledge of the world and its empty spaces.
So nothing can be something? Don’t answer. Nothing is to be gained by speculating over nothing. Something to avoid. Can anything come between something and nothing? Time to slap myself.
You’re right, that ‘nothing’ thing is seriously confusing :)!