Classic Poem

Listen, silent gentles:
There is nothing there.
Mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, listen.

I have seen the future.
I have been there. Manic-mantic, I have it all by heart.
And I can tell you there is nothing there.

Nothing, nothing. No thing, not one ant or gnat,
Not the least shadow of the merest ash,
No bones about,
No atom, no smallest mote of comic-cosmic dust,
No mite, no item, no iota.
Just blessed blissfulnesses just and just.

Look, O children of all ages of all Ages,
O thrones, worms, wandering idiots lost beyond dogs' orbits,
Wallflowers woefully unbeckoned,
Infatuated sots of mean sobriety,
Superstitious nincompoops, unsound, inane-insane,
O silent gentles, look, look, look at it this way:

If you can say you are awake today,
Or even guess you think you may be, " some, "
Then there you are, right, right there and then,
Right here right now, just that much that,
No matter whether ten or ten-times-ten
Recyclings of the crystal year, whatever sum
(After the first second there is no second:
You're on your own), if

You are here and now
Awake — O vivid invisible center of my homely homily! —
Then it must have to be the case,
It must, that is, befall that you are wholly blessed,
Under the aegis, under the auspices, under something
That has sponsored you and sheltered you forever.

Make no mistake:
You could not let a second's breath
Without the unanimous permission of the one universe.
And you have that. You do.
You have it all the time, all tides, all times,
But never quite so much and perfectly
As when you absolutely least expect it,
Between two bites (say) of a Milky Way.