The gray-haired aged philosophers of old,
Debating the existence of the void,
Would speculate its nature, hot or cold,
Or other postulates with which they toyed.

Religions thought it punishment for sin,
Though all mythologies will tend to fail
When they're reduced to Yang in search of Yin
Or any other sophomoric tale.

Now others say the void is empty space,
A vaccuum filled with only nothingness
Where measured matter has not left a trace
To indicate there once was more not less.

If greater brains have failed to reconcile
The composition of this inquiry;
If hot or cold or filled with bilious bile
Or place some face eternal misery,

Then maybe all didactic intercourse
On inane questions, like the ones above,
Are now devoid of philosophic force;
So let's debate the nature of true love.

Well after many years of pondering
And over many pages wandering
I think these questions need more laundering
Through young minds not so old and doddering

Like mine.