Nothing, Revisited

He wanted to see himself reflected in,
see what mystery was there,
but, after beginning, it was like forgetting
an important point he wished to say.

He found nothing, and became angry.

Then, he left himself
to find peace in his anger.
Peace, then existed not within himself,
but from the world's quick first impression.

This in return, allowed him to reassemble himself,
return to himself, without boundaries,
to a silence he couldn't reinvent.

There, he fought tirelessly,
and tried to take back himself,
but, again, only found silence,
and the occasional sound of a passing car.

Reflected into himself, he looked for happiness,
for a union to grasp onto--
something to revise or revisit.

But, in unknown territory,
he didn't trust his perception,
and silence became a companion.

There, he made coffee, smoked cigarettes,
and didn't bother much with his surroundings.
He found his expectations great, so then lowered them.
There was no sound, and he was content with that.
Each thought came, and went,
like an empty gesture whose meaning isn't reflected upon.

Like this, the silence passed,
and he stuck to what he knew best: nothing.

In nothing, he revisited his anger,
and found in it a revised sadness:

like a philosopher's Great Point,
a Nothingness that repeated itself.