Missing Nothing

When I had nothing I was quite content.
For nothing ever came and nothing ever went.

I’d sit alone with nothing, left to my imagination.
Nothing made me happy. It was a filling contemplation.

I held onto nothing all day and all night.
It was easy having nothing. Nothing just felt right.

There was really nothing to it or at least nothing much.
It wasn’t something seen or heard, nothing I could touch.

It was a peaceful feeling from what I can recall
For when I had nothing I really had it all.

But somehow I lost nothing. I have nothing left to do
except sit and long for nothing, for the feeling I once knew.

I want for nothing daily. I’d like to hold it in my palm.
I’d hold on to it so tightly. For nothing makes me calm.

Sometimes I think of nothing and when I do I find
it’s nice when nothing happens and nothing comes to mind.

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Some Notes (June 2023): I’ve been contemplating contentment — it’s something I really used to have, sometimes find, but mostly realize I am missing again. I thought about writing a kid story about it (to teach the value of contentment) but even just my notes on everything I wanted to include were way longer than a kid’s story should be. And then I stumbled across “nothing”. Nothing is perfect. The above poem is my first take on it. I think I’ll sit with this one and see how else I can improve it. And then hopefully somehow illustrate it into a kid story… though pictures of nothing are kind of hard to make. (But in my mind maybe a Shel Silverstein-style simple black pen lines would be perfect). So stay tuned because “you ain’t seen nothing yet”!