“I Am Nothing”

nothing

“I Am Nothing”

I am nothing if not noted in a book
Of reckoning, some slight record of me here and there
Upraised, even sought by souls whose care
And wizened regard I long ago forsook
To seek my own blank pages, to underwrite
A leaf or two, distributing diamonds in my hand
To places I had never been. To seed lands,
Harvest images, draw scented waters of praise sealed tight
In time within a vial or significance, a  light
Container sufficient to carry on nightly walks
Through streets which run throughout my history, chalk
Lines on sidewalks and in the sands drawn as vague rites
In hegira with fellow travellers through dim-lit dusks,
Hejaz of endless dawns to come, some bull in ever-present musth.

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