How can a story

Float up from nothing?

Or are stories always born

From other stories?

Thoughts - orphaned children

But also angels with gifts,

Or demons with swords

Making  us healers

Or killers.

Thoughts are radiant ions

Weaving illusion

Out of pure light

Arising from nothing

Returning to nothing

And in between

Signifying the world.

So raid the unknown

Love the womb

Not just the baby

And let the power of nothing

Reveal everything.