Lately I’ve been staring
At the low- hanging fruit.
I’ve been wondering
Who I think I am, and
What kind of idiot I must be
To think I am something special, or
Lately I’ve found an even more
Humble kind of humility, the one
That doesn’t like being felt, let alone seen.
My fruits, so low, half-rot into the earth
I am nothing, and that is exactly
What I am worth.
How pure and clean and
Desirable I must be, in order for
My nothingness to exist.
The most hard-sought trait
Of enlightenment, it took me
Until now to realize
The value of nothing, now
I wonder how it would even be possible
To disappear, in a world where
Your footprints are digital, emotional
More meaningless than ever.
The nothingness has become
So omnipresent, we are all
Constantly reminded of the value of things
Like time, status, and money.
The nothingness of it all.
We are all content creators, and
Nothing is going on–
Nothing good, at least
Not much good goes on,
Usually just suffering, frustration
Pains in my ankles, which is why
Is a state I’ve come to love.