NaPoWriMo#12: Nothing

NaPoWriMo or National Poetry Writing Month, is an annual project in which participating poets attempt to write a poem a day for the month of April.

Nothing
By Justine C. Tajonera

I am not accustomed to asking
for nothing. There is always a list of things
to be requested, acquired, sorted. Even
gratitude has its lists.

Nothing borders my life, creates the
edges, the breath between the hungers,
the immersion in the delightful noise.

I chase after the last note of the bell.
There are two breaths in between the end
of the sound and the beginning.

I forget that the end of the sound makes
the sound. One and the other are no
different and separate. If I lose you,
If I lose you, I will remember this truth.

The Act of Creation: Sestina for Clea

by Justine C. Tajonera

To make something out of nothing
is a talent and a thing of pure delight
or the joy of a poet or an artist in flight.
It is the pastime of a god or a king.
It has no rhyme or reason for being.
There are no requirements for its light.

Imagine darkness and a single point of light.
Look for a force that rises from nothing.
Think of wonderful ways of being.
Bask in a toddler’s simple delight.
Feel the force of a flock of a hundred’s flight.
It would be no less than a tribute to a king.

And what would please a wizard, a master, a king?
Who would disturb an artist’s obsession with light?
Nothing would ground a creature mid flight.
Repressing one’s heart will come to nothing.
And why would one curb what brings delight?
Why would we avoid the zenith of being?

I fear and anticipate what comes into being
when a queen finds her match in a king;
when gravity and reason confront delight.
What great thing resides between shadow and light?
What mystery unfolds from existing and nothing?
I feel the longing of the wingless for flight.

For only we who have invented the tools of flight
envy the birds their natural being.
We are never content to be fated for nothing.
We want to be no less than status of king.
We want all that is hidden to be brought to light
and we spend our lives chasing delight.

No, we are never content without our delight.
We would choose the fight over flight;
We would struggle with darkness to seek the light.
It is written in our blood, in our being,
whether born merchant or pauper or king.
We are born for seeking, stopping at nothing.

This is our delight, our song of being,
It is the dream of a king, the story of flight:
To live in the light, rising from nothing.

(Jan. 15, 2010)

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/bettinatizzy/3047363756/