To Zero!

I went on a trail today that dead ended
It didn't exactly dead end
This wasn't a place one would come to and sit
That would make it a dead end
There was a tree that had fallen over
There was no trace of the trail continuing
There wasn't much mystery as to what would be beyond that point
As it's all brush pretty much
I thought if I went past the fallen tree
That I'd find a place that nobody else would be
I thought maybe I'd find some spot to sit
As soon as I got past the tree I saw a thin trail
I wondered if it was a trail for raccoons
Or maybe it was a trail left by the few who, at times, want to be alone
And that maybe those people are like me
So if I met one, at least, we'd be as uncomfortable of the other as the other
And we'd somehow know that and we could awkwardly skedaddle
It was also cold and a bit rainy
The likelihood of anybody was very low
This was a comfort

For most, the spot where the tree has fallen
These are spots to turn around
The adventurers aren't going to go here
The pattern of the trail is monotonous
There's nothing mysterious beyond it
No looming challenge
Nothing to conquer
There will be no news from "beyond"

They say that the broad strokes of those paths are made
Historians dabble in these minute corners
Painters who admire Mondrian, like me
Still want to do something like him, at least I do
But those points have been trodden
And you're not going to get bonus points
For adding a squiggle

Still, I went past the tree
The first spot to sit
I sat and soon noticed I was sitting next to raccoon skat
I got up from there and found a nice little hedged area
I went to sit and found what looked like a disfigured face
It turned out to be an upside down turtle
It was still kind of meaty and looked like a dripping mask
I wondered if every spot I picked would have some gross thing
That maybe I should take the lesson and leave
But I had no lesson to ask for
I thought it'd be good to be alone and sit
Could there be a crime in that?

Next spot was okay
I wanted to get close to the water but was afraid some boater
Might drop by and wonder what sort of freak would be sitting
In the middle of palm-like bushes
I thought, since I had a nice green parka, that he'd think
I was bird watching
Not some nut

When I sit like this, sometimes I try not to think of anything
What can be wrong about thinking about nothing
And not thinking about nothing to get something
Well, maybe that is a lie, and the deception
But thankfully when I give a go at not thinking
I am free from that a bit

Not even thinking about nothing can be something
Because nothing can be something
This thinking stuff can just be uncontrollable
It has an incessant desire to throw in all sorts of curve balls
There's a lot of trickery that goes on to keep you
Not thinking thinking not thinking about the not thinking
And then there's the hams that try and rain on the parade
With all the riff raff
And then the more subtle ones
That try and help
They try, but it's a twist
And you have to fall off that
Then there's the "small voice"
Turns out that there's lots of "small voices"
"small voices" flower into threads of conversation
And you have to somehow remember
To drop it all and settle to pure quiet

No lessons
No good
No bad
No wisdom
No not wisdom

Just quiet

If there's a moment of quiet
It's quite nice
But the elation itself brings in voices
So, at least for now, it's very temporary

It feels healthy
And math guys like zero
I love zero
I've even read the history of zero

I even think the church had big problems with the idea of such a thing as zero
So here's to not thinking!
To zero!

Cheers!