the void and filled soul...

this starry night...
this breeze...
playing with long coconut leaves...
and the music so blessed...
keeping with the tradition of a perfect transcience...
this beauty of doing nothing...
must be a choice so ancient...
Pre historic one...perhaps

a free uninhibited mind
converging all into one
a blank creative choice...
in void the birth of a voice...

Plato...
he had that aplenty I guess...

the beauty of doing nothing...
and also getting into everything...

the starry night...
the leaves talking about the day...
the clouds on cushiony dreams laid
yawning...
the night waiting with all her keenness for the morning...
the mother bird telling a tale...
the rhythmic passage of an express mail...

all arrive...
with the beauty of nothing doing...
and how
they just fill the soul...