Worlds of Wild Nothings
The wild red nothings, they fancy the flowers;
They battle the bees for hours and hours.
The wild blue nothings, they wander the seas;
They swim in the sunshine and do as they please.
The worried white nothings, they wriggle through clouds;
They blink at the daylight and slumber on shrouds.
The high yellow nothings, they race against day;
They cackle at sunbeams and are always at play.
The wild green nothings, they anger the forest,
Leaving green-dust on branches, and howling in chorus.
The hungry brown nothings, they harvest the earth;
They press their noses to stones and sing dirge after dirge.
The gold orange nothings, they roll through the air;
They drip from all juices, and never play fair.
The hungry black nothings, they prowl the night;
They gobble up grins and cause fight after fight.
All of the nothings, they gather in hordes;
They riot the earth and they rearrange words.
In a world of wild nothings, weird is all there is;
But the chaos can be comfort, and the savage wonder, bliss.