An Ode To Nothing Poem by Philip Holdredge

It takes no time at all
to be here
To leave and come back
having gone nowhere.
There can be no mistake
although we try our best
to hold this finite view in place.
By doing so we miss it all,
or so it seems.
Even by looking for it
we lose sight of it.
Take a seat here
in the stillness of the garden
let all protective garments fall away.
They only block the sunlight
flowing freely through the veil.
Deep within the marrow, and beyond,
the unseen sprouts
Buds of being blossom
sweet and sour nectar
as breath of time enfolds blinding us
with tapestries of illusion.