All too often we run the good race,
Chase the right chase to no avail,
Only to wind up with little or nothing
To show for our effort. No Holy Grail
At the end of our search
Though we've covered each corner,
Probed every crevice
Down each avenue.
Swift and elusive the nothing finds shelter
Away from the probing eyes,
Tucked out of view.
The nothing is always there lurking in shadows,
Living on instinct, primed to survive.
Chasing the nothing is what makes us human.
Reaching for stars keeps our spirit alive.
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