This is where one hears
the saddest song that brings the truest joys;
this is where one sees
absolutely nothing in ways clearest;
there is where one smells
the most fragrant, encapsulating void;
this is where one touches
upon the light that is nonexistent;
this is where one tastes
the most delicious breathlessness—
I wonder how we might come about a sort of nothingness
that lets us dwell in the question of the finite without
the sneaky infinite’s existential harness
a pretend that is well-thought-out
so much that only the lack of thought itself
can unclasp
its invisible lock