On a particular,
As if it held the key to all I need.
I'd rather not have to go that far.
'But then,' you say, 'nothing is said at all,
When pointing at nothing with nothing.
If you want to make sense of what you see,
You must, for example, use something.'
So there you go, space and time has gone,
And no real noun can really be found,
To be receptive of a positive word.
And, yet, I feel as if we've both come around,
To be alright.
Though, I may be wrong this time.
Are we on the same page, or have I managed again,
To write one that could only ever be mine?
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