The void

What is it?

This nothingness

And can it exist,

While I ponder it's existence?

Does it vanish on being considered?

And can nothing really vanish

If it wasn't ever there?

Or is it something so alien,

I cannot even fathom it

While I am here - violently alive

I have often thought

That death is nothingness

The moment my consciousness ends

There will be a void.

A sweet release

From the agony of life

The restlessness of feeling,

The drama of being an emotional creature,

Of a constantly changing body

Of the stormy reality in each breath

But even in death

The atoms that make up my body

Will remain

Slowly decomposing

To their raw parts

Until they are free.

Free to form some other thing

A plant, a rock, a fledgling bird

As I am made from past things

They will be made from me

So is there truly nothing?

I'm not sure

The question writhes in my mind

A curly question

The answer evades me

I can convince myself it's there

Then talk myself around

Some ideas are too complex

For my simple mind

Just too quantum to comprehend