Photo Freeze

Blunt greys and bone edges.

A lifeless collusion of parts

to construct life,

configure whole.

To face an apathetic unconcern for effect.

A barren struggle for meaning,

a pulse for being.

The response: a reverberation of his formula,

a shadow of a composition

anguishing in request for more.

He feels there is nothing

but nothing is grand,

overwhelming.

A falsification for convenience.

Nothing is something-

a “receptacle” of space unlimited.

Nothingness could never exist

for it could never be recognized as such,

even by itself.

So he is enveloped in his own existence.

Lone and

there, something other subsists.

Broken segments, a lack of clarity.

he drowns in a mush of his own fragmentation.

The sharp engages the soft,

the solitary to counter the vast.

Before splintering away, he urges more

but is teased with the illusion of nothing,

a reminder of hope in something.

He is given himself in response.