Something out of Nothing from Everything

I thought I needed to write but by now I've talked most of it out.  It seems Autumn is a time for words to fall from my head.  Or a time when I wish they would because there is so much building up inside.

But one thing that still remains in the vines tangled inside me is this: You'll carry me out of exile.  If I just stop squirming You'll pick me up.  You'll make the effort to find me where I am and carry me where I need to go.  I don't need to hear You in a song.  I don't need to see You in words that I write or say, or hear another say.  You'll speak when I'm listening with what looks to other ears like nothing is there.  You'll speak when I'm listening.

I need to slow down to a nothing.  A nothing that is not laziness.  A nothing that is not sloth.  A nothing where You reveal to me that You're everything and You're in it all.  I need to stop listening to the world.  The world isn't saying anything.  When I'm listening to nothing You can be there.  You're there in the nothing.  Not even a whisper of the wind, and You're there.

You're the everything that allows the nothing to be something.  And I think that's enough for now.