The Gift of Nothing

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

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Isola_dei_Morti_IV_%28Bocklin%29.jpg

P.S.: Something to listen to if you liked the poem

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isle_of_the_Dead_%28Rachmaninoff%29

6 thoughts on “The Gift of Nothing

    1. 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.

  1. 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.

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