metonymy4u

The great and ever story of the human brain is that
whenever we look beneath nothing remains—
what ideas blew inside with wind and rain
what agéd will shadows whispers with rotten cane?
It was nothing faith unchained, believe me
nothing on winter nights we supped and sang.
From that Lear-like nothing nothing rang.
Sure, Galileo said he would charm magic
from nature’s hidden crown, however random
bitter scorn of Gloucester’s lower son who was left
to wither and die a sorry nothing of a lie—
his life but a twisted kinder means to be unkind—
discovered this lord a truer truth than was ever born!
And taught us rather to find someone’s something
that sometime loved, than fly to nothings we know not of.