That's precisely my point

And then I realized just how small a point really is. I mean, think about it. It is supposed to occupy a vanishingly small space. It is supposed to exist, but that’s as far as it can go.  You and I see it, so it’s most definitely there, but we shouldn’t be able to perceive it. It isn’t tangible. If I were to lay my finger on it, it would disappear into the contours of my skin after which I might never be able to distinguish it from all the other points that build me. So, in a way, it’s this mysterious, unintelligible quest. It exists, but in passing. It is time itself. And if you try to capture it, it just floats away. Into nothingness. Or points of nothingness.

Draw a line segment,

Draw a shorter line segment vertically above it,

Draw an even shorter one above that,

Then shorter, shorter, shorter,

Shortest.

Draw a point.

Sharpen the pencil and draw a finer point.

Then finer, finer, finer.

Finest.

Draw Nothing.

The Five-petaled Flower

The five-petaled flower

Just swayed in the wind

And appeared as a blur

Of a lonesome stem.

The five-petaled flower

Then shed all its petals

Yet when it swayed

It appeared but the same.

Behead

The words that I bequeath are not yours to quote,

Those words belong to me, they are what I wrote.

Why do you encroach upon my thoughts

And voice the wisdom I sought?

You’re my guise, it is I you fucking feign.

You’re just the tongue, dear,

That calls me the Brain.

Naked

My hands are the link from my mind to reality,

They are but the viands of my sexuality.

They perpetuate my thoughts,

And unravel my lots,

To expose my soul to body, and finality.

I, Me, Myself

When she spread her arms to receive the world,

Her disjointed shoulders severed the balance.

Her symmetry bellowed into a gullible vacuum of reception.

She looked into the sky, and she did not feel alone,

But she did not feel safe either.

She clasped her hands to trap her strength, and the regularity

Of her figure fused unto her entwined fingers.

Her symmetry carved the sky into mirrored images.

She looked into the sky, and she felt alone,

But she knew she was the God of the only being that mattered.