Nothing is lost

[melodily]

Organic enough, this finding.
This loss too, even as
nothing is lost. Perhaps possibility.
If there were a seam in space I could find,
running my fingers across the air.
An inch of protrusion yielding to the touch.
I would step inside, zip it over me
like a body bag.
A capsule for light and space to spool across,
unperturbed.
I admire caterpillars their will to transform.
When I emerge from this cocoon,
I want to be nothing.
The gaps
between molecules.