It’s been a cold autumn so far. Real cold, with temperatures dropping towards zero.
Autumn has arrived like a quiet confession—its colors burn and fade, teaching me how beauty leans toward surrender. In that surrender, winter waits: a hollow, a promise of nothing.
Today’s quadrille challenge warrants us to use the word “zero.”
Thanks again for the challenge and motivation to write some poetry.
0 – Nothing
I love the rust of falling light,
each leaf a whisper, soft goodnight.
Autumn’s pulse slows—zero near,
winter hums its hollow sphere.
In nothing’s hush, I start to see:
the self unbound, infinity.
Bare roots hold what winds erase—
zero blooms in empty space.
When the world folds into silence, when the last leaf lets go, we meet the truth: nothingness is not absence but origin. Nothing is the doorway, and through it, the self expands—vast, unmeasured, eternal.
If you liked this poem and would like to read more visceral and supernatural poetry, check out my debut collection, Folklore and Flesh. Available online at all major retailers:
Thank you for visiting with me. For more Poetry or Literature related content, visit our blog at The Ritual. Copyright Mind on Fire Books.
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