Of all comes none, yet feels as still
some semblance of a substance seen unreal,
echo endless hollow beauty immeasurable.

Pour within gentle, each infinite precision
though tiny tending seems manage fog of all,
great mysterious shadow ineffable being.

As pretense dissolve void control totality:
none contain yet achingly full throb expanse.

Last trickles black none numb state.

Of nothing said, all’s known.

In stillness,

it’s pure.

of nil,

comes all.