Least Read Poems on Pablo Neruda

So many things
about you, nothing,    
you who are often    
in philosophy and theology.    
I close    
my eyes and see you.    
I wave    
my hands    
behind my head and unsee you.    
Unfeeling. I move    
through you,    
my frame framing you. Out    
of you, all things begin.    
The anticipation is great    
at this cusp.    
The astronomers    
love you, they bang on    
and on    
about nothing,    
the mathematicians    
go further than zero    
and call...