A small, murky room,
Where an old man lives with Nothingness;
He reads books,
But Nothingness besieges him in pages.
While lying on cot as old as he,
He sets his gaze at an old-fashioned spherical watch
And childishly counts the tic-tic of it;
But nothingness does bump into there.
Going to the attic,
he opens window panes, gazes at shimmering stars, crescent moon and floating clouds,
Nothingness follows him there too.
He finds but nothingness.
He utters the words,
“everything is Nothingness with whom I live”
And sleeps with it on creaking cot,