Oh that’s nice 
this nothing is
except for sounds 
from somewhere else 
softened and dampened 
a quiet reminder 
that although alone 
I’m not lonely 
for the nothing 
is a notion
of peace’s potion
in this ocean 
of otherwise commotion 

The flat plains 
offer no threat 
to low east
sun that paints 
the tall buildings 
in yellow gold 
and things shine 
against the western 
sky like tombs
uncovered after eons
of cold darkness 

Going back 
to find 
and not 
to see
for saw
I have 
but revive 
and rekindle 
and restart 
and reignite 
the passions 
which darkened 
to embers 
but never 
to ash

We are but pages
in these our ages
filling our little books 
with baubles and nooks 
that they will find
and whereby might remind 
of what we meant 
when it was penned 
and maybe even so
of times long ago 

Everyone else is 
but additional spices 
to the rack
that we are 
imagine that you 
are the essentials 
necessary to make 
any dish necessary 
and that others 
are their own 
various flavor profiles 
be it tarragon 
or basil or
chili powder or 
cumin or whatever 
makes the meal 
you are taste
a bit better