Try

Behold this spiral

in her hair, regard

those spiral branchings

in that tree, observe

that spiral made of

stars and promise not

to link them, promise

yourself to let them

be, to signify

nothing, let them mean

wonderful nothing,

nothing, the only

real world miracle

that cups everything

in its emptiness

dour only to us,

we few somethings who

remain the bridges

between manifest

spirals and unreal

labyrinths. Believe!

Believe, have faith, trust

in nothing itself,

wonderful wreckage.

Trying costs us nothing.