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Nicholas David Klacsanzky : Poet and Pundit

Invocation to Nothingness
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Invocation to Nothingness

 

O enigma of emptiness

what will I write on you?
My home, a shady old forest
of tomorrow's yesteryear,
lives without thought
or brightened ideas;
no, my quietly quaint forest
contains no secrets -
no knowledge of you or me.

No, nothing of words
or poesy does he tell;
just a breeze,
a hush of breath
that sweeps me in remembrance
of what I once was
and will be.

 

or:

 

Invocation to Nothingness

 

O mysterious blank sheet,
what will I write on you?
My home, a spritely old forest
of tomorrow's yesteryear,
lives without thought
or brightened ideas;
no, my quietly quaint forest
contains no secrets -
no knowledge of you or me.

No, nothing of words
or poesy does he tell;
just a breeze,
a hush of breath
that sweeps me in remembrance
of what I once was
and will be.