Everything and nothing

Once everything, and then nothing,
like mindfulness in the eye of a storm;
the cradle swaying back and forth.

Soft blue calm of a night remembered,
one night meaning everything.
Then flipped, with spit-flecked cheeks.

The candle smells of vanilla and bergamot,
and the shoe that no longer fits the fashion
goes out of style, recedes, dies.

Everything held on one hand for a single,
fickle second, then sliding in a gross mess
towards nothing.

Waiting on a message one knows will never arrive;
Surprisingly, this is everything – not nothing, as one might assume.
Yet nothing exists, but in supple, specific crevices.

It must be sought out.

In the evening, the sun melds with the candle and
smells of vanilla and bergamot.
The wicks of the dune catch fire in the wilting light.

On the distant horizon are palms and their masters.
In the foreground, a prolapsed boat,
its mast the calling card of what has come before.

Nothing and everything bathe in the calm shallows
of the beach,
and soon someone comes to take their place.

A shoe washes up on shore.