This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

I am
Nothing.

And
Something.

Something and
Nothing
That float in the ether,
Shadows of grace on the ancient days;
Patters of rain on the rocks of suffering;
Bolts of blue lightning on the endless ocean;
Whispers of pain in the ears of my beloved.

I am
Sighs.

And
Gasps.

Gasping and
Sighing
On the eve of Tomorrow,
Bending and swaying in legends of old;
Whispers of promises spoken in curses;
Life force of the Death who traverses the heart.

I am
Barren.

And
Fruitful.

Fruitful and
Barren,
The bursting succour to the wastelands;
The scouring flood in the deserts of arid sands;
The scorching heat to the rivers of tears.

I am
Mystery.

And
Clarity.

Clarity and
Mystery,
The visions of young men and the dreams of the aged;
The face in the mirror of midsummer nights;
The voice of the inherently dumb and the silencer of hopes.

I
Am.

Could I not
Be,
I would
Rejoice.

But I
Am,
And I
Mourn my own
Being.

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.