NOTHING

 

It came to him

With his eyes closed

Drifting

As he often will

 

He pulled in the oars

That he had been feathering

In space – through time

Throwing the handles down in front of him

 

Blades bouncing up toward the heavens

“It was not real”

Stunning, but true

He was making it all up

 

As he went along

That is all it was

That is all it is

A rolling creation

 

Of the mind

More than a dream

But, not by much

He found himself smiling

 

What did he want?

The answer already hung in front of him

As he reached forward

Picking up the oars

 

Dipping the blades again

Feathering again

Smiling again

Whispering the answer as he drifted away

 

“Nothing”