The Poem about ‘nothing’

Here Goes Nothing

I had nothing to do today
nothing on my plate.
So I spent my day doing nothing
nothing special, at least.

I left nothing to the imagination,
and since nothing ventured is nothing gained,
I forged ahead
nothing to it.

I stopped at nothing.
Wanted for nothing.
Nothing but the best
and nothing came of it.
Or maybe next to nothing

So many days of nothing.
Good for nothing.
Nothing much to show for them
just hours folding into hours,
the infinite nothing.

But I guess there’s nothing new under the sun.
And I have nothing to lose.
Nothing is free.
Nothing is sacred.
Nothing is unbearable.
Nothing lasts forever.
Nothing really matters.

I’ve made something out of nothing.
I’ve made it everything.