Searching. You look up, and up. It’s steep. Way up.
No. Wait. It’s right beside you.
The packaging; ribbons, bows, sparkling lights, blinking lettering. No chance.
Like a new type of Christmas present. No bow. No ribbons. No wrapping paper. No box. No thing inside. But, there is something about the circumstances.
It’s not the idea that the present ‘had no content’, it’s the concept of nothingness that holds the sting.
The memory of the olive-green sweater from Grandma lasted. But even the idea of receiving a present of nothingness, has teeth. Teeth that bite, gnaw and rip into flesh. Teeth – that won’t let go.
There is the snapshot of nothingness, but its ancillary friends really bring home the entire picture; surrender, openness, unlimited possibilities, unboundedness, flexibility, the Unknown.
Every word is a useless stain on nothingness.
Find me.
The Infinite 