The vessel of our thought, full with voice,

The absence of all that moves,

A sign of doubt,

Without,

A stitch in time too still to touch, too slippery to climb.

The zero of my world,

The start and end of all I know or knew,

With thought's unknown yet certain guest,

With love, the open ended view.

ORIGINATOR · Mike de Sousa

ART FORM · Poetry

COMPLETED · 2015

Free to enjoy. Copyright maintained. Not to be used for ai or commercial gain.