The whole nothingness is fulfilling.

When you are waiting,
And nothing happening.

Not even a fickle of wind,
Not even a leaf is falling,
Not even a cricket is chirping.

The sky blue, orange and radiant
And just stuck like a painting.

The bird in the nest,
silently staring at you.

The music from far away,
playing without a change in rhythm.

The whole nothingness is fulfilling.

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