The one needful thing

There is a jumble of thoughts fighting in my head all saying they are the meaningful thing. A fine contradiction so it would seem, but every voice shouts or whispers the same exact thing just in different words, different contexts, different differences and similar sameities. It's very simple, this one, meaningful thing, but it taxes every single thing. It is not kind (but it's the only kindness) and it does not knock and ask but takes you by the throat and chokes that illusion of breathe we breathe, and holds you tell your dead, than brings you back again. It is not wantful, nor desirable, nor hopeful, but the lack thereof wantful, desirable, hopeful things. It is the one thing, the no thing, the all thing jumping on your forehead, prying to bring in the light. Zenith Zen-ly-da! Zenith Zen-ly-da! Oh Kushman's mad againe.