Out of Nothing, Something (Philosophy, Psychology and Devotional)
Out of Nothing, Something
In the silence where shadows dwell,
A whisper stirs, a tale to tell.
From the depths of the endless night,
Emerges a spark, igniting light.
Philosophers ponder, minds entwined,
What is the essence of the undefined?
From chaos and order, a cosmic play,
Out of nothing, something finds its way.
Thoughts like rivers carve through stone,
In the heart of the void, we are never alone.
Existence blooms in the barren ground,
In every heartbeat, creation is found.
Psychology maps the paths we tread,
In dreams and fears, in what’s left unsaid.
From emptiness springs our deepest desire,
A flicker of hope, a soul’s quiet fire.
In shadows we wrestle with doubt and despair,
Yet from this abyss, we rise to declare:
The mind is a garden where thoughts take flight,
Out of nothingness grows our inner light.
O Divine Presence, in whispers you weave,
The fabric of life that we dare to believe.
From dust and from dreams, you sculpt our fate,
Out of nothing, something—oh, how great!
With every prayer that dances on air,
We find in our hearts a love laid bare.
In gratitude’s embrace, we rise and sing:
From emptiness flows the joy you bring.
So let us celebrate this wondrous birth,
The miracle of life upon this Earth.
In every ending lies a new beginning—
Out of nothing comes something; let us keep spinning.
For in this grand tapestry of time and space,
We find our purpose, our sacred place.
From void to fullness, let our spirits soar—
Out of nothing, something—forevermore.
Out of Nothing, Something
(The Nature of Being)
Out of void, the All was born —
A whisper where no lips had formed.
No clay to shape, no hands to mold,
No light to break the ancient cold.
If “nothing” was all, how then did it break?
Did it ache to be seen, or just a mistake?
But how can “nothing” yearn or desire?
No embers exist before the fire.
From silence’s depth, the first word was sung,
Not from a mouth, but a taut, unseen lung.
The paradox echoes in each waking thought —
Existence itself is the gift that is wrought.
Infinity coiled in the husk of “Not-Being,”
An uncarved statue the cosmos was seeing.
Is this not the secret of every creation?
Form from formlessness, cause without causation.
(The Mind’s Struggle with Emptiness)
Out of nothing, something grows.
From hollow soil, a garden shows.
Every blank canvas taunts the mind —
The weight of absence is not kind.
The artist stares at the white expanse,
Paralyzed by its cold, vacant glance.
“Am I enough to make something appear?”
A war with the self — with doubt, with fear.
But the mind is a womb, restless and wide,
Filling the void with what cannot hide.
Memories from nowhere, fears with no name,
Dreams that arrive with no herald of fame.
Out of the stillness, the voices begin —
Echoes of “You cannot” and “Why did you sin?”
But if you can name them, they start to recede,
And in their retreat, you find a new seed.
The mind is the maker of bridges and wings,
Pulling the “Nothing” to cradle new things.
The poet, the dreamer, the sculptor, the fool —
All rise from the vacuum to master the rule:
“From the abyss, I will pull down the stars.
The end of the dark is wherever we are.”
Out of nothing, my God, You have made —
Oceans and orchards from absence displayed.
No tools in Your hand, no furnace or flame,
Yet the heavens appeared at the call of Your name.
Was I, too, once “nothing” before You had thought?
A glimmer of love in the depths You had wrought?
How then can I doubt, when I feel so undone,
That You will not finish what You have begun?
The desert is empty, the well has run dry,
But rainbows are painted on rainless sky.
The widow’s jar is bare to the bone,
But oil will pour as long as she’s shown.
Out of my failure, You call me to rise.
Out of my sorrow, You open my eyes.
The voice of the void may speak of despair,
But I hear You breathing, “I am still there.”
For nothing is lost that love cannot claim.
No night so thick it can snuff out Your flame.
Creation was born from the hush of the grave,
And I am reborn every time that I crave
To see “something” where emptiness reigns.
Out of the silence, You loosen my chains.
Hallelujah, for “nothing” is not where it ends.
The hollow is holy. The broken ascends.
Out of nothing, something will grow —
A garden of mercy from seeds You bestow.
Philosophy ponders it.
Psychology wrestles with it.
Faith proclaims it.
Out of nothing, something.
Out of nowhere, everywhere.
Out of silence, the song.
Out of Nothing, Something
From the void, a whisper, a breath, a sigh,
A spark ignites, a cosmic lullaby.
A universe unfolds, a grand design,
A masterpiece, eternal and divine.
A mind emerges, a consciousness so deep,
A soul awakens, from slumber’s sleep.
A yearning heart, a spirit pure and bright,
Seeks meaning, purpose, in the fading light.
A question echoes, ancient and profound,
“From nothingness, how can life be found?”
A mystery, a riddle, yet to be solved,
A paradox, a secret, tightly involved.
Is it chance, or fate, or a higher hand,
That shapes our destiny, across the land?
Or does it lie within, a power unknown,
A spark divine, a seed newly sown?
In every atom, a universe resides,
A cosmic dance, where life presides.
A tapestry woven, intricate and grand,
A masterpiece, crafted by a higher hand.
Let faith ignite, and hope take flight,
As darkness fades, and dawns the light.
For out of nothing, something does arise,
A miracle of life, beneath the skies.
Lyricist, Author and Poet: Ajay Gautam
