Always trying

He had always wanted to be able to play the piano
or the violin, for that matter, but at this point, Mr. Nothing,
although reluctantly, admitted that he could actually be
content with an ordinary harmonica, as he had already settled
once, like every future stranger, and managed to get along
with that fairly well for a while, considering the odds.
But there had never been enough time, and now it was
just a man flying a kite whom Mr. Nothing would never know,
Platocrates would ignore when feeding the seagulls,
and the poet, well, he was always trying to capture
nothing but his own silence.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.