serves the thing it does.
In doing, becomes nothing.
That nothing that you love.
It may be odd to think this way,
about you, Mother dear.
But ask yourself, in each passing day,
‘what dull thoughts do appear?’
So please take comfort in the fact,
you’re spared of such mundane.
Know instead, that I thought that…
“perhaps you thought the same?”
It’s not the daily toil of life
that gives rise to your gift.
It’s all the things that “I” contrive,
which having you does give.
True, having you does something.
It guides my every move.
Most things I do, mean nothing,
but you’re there to approve.
Seldom my thoughts leave myself,
but I have pondered this:
Is there something that for yourself,
provides that ‘nothing’ bliss?
Well…no use in comparing,
the things that ‘something’ brings.
But in hoping you have something,
my ‘nothing’ disappears.