The Point

If we’re getting

straight down

to the point,

straight down to it,

kneeling right next to it,

I’d have to tell you:

I don’t know anything about this world,

nothing but poetry and music,

and no one has ever

really known those things anyway.

Not to say this would be

a deceitful lie –

beautiful, but deceitful,

and I can’t do that to you.

I only know that somewhere

along this way

there was a wishing well

and I tossed my dreams into it,

that hole, that fountain,

and they have always found

their way back to me,

soaked,

soaked in nothing but

music and poetry

and if there is no meaning to that

there is no meaning to anything.

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12 thoughts on “The Point

  1. Great poem. “Nothing” is like the dark backdrop of the stars – it’s where everything began/begins. It’s the blank page… the canvas… the chalkboard awaiting the complex mathematical formulae for a theory of everything. Not knowing is the 1st realization of knowing. It’s a space awaiting enlightenment.

Thoughts? I love those.

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