There is no perfect child.
There is no time like the present. 
There is no one coming to rescue us.
There is no reason for alarm.

There is no guru.
There is no method.
There is no one coming to teach us. 
There is no natural law.

There is no going back.
There is no use in crying.
There is no one coming to save us.
There is no better time.

There is no perfect pitch.
There is no top tier.
There is no one coming to dazzle us.
There is no true blue.

There is no Mother Nature.
There is no bird in the tree.
There is no one coming to restore us.
There is no light on the porch.

There is no moon for the moon.
There is no center of the universe.
There is no one coming to judge us.
There is no will to matter.

There is no angel that fell.
There is no demon that tempts.
There is no one coming to guide us. 
There is no last day.

There is no sunset.
There is no alpha dog.
There is no one born to love us. 
There is no last word.

There is just a celestial thread 
that we hold for safety,
that we pluck for sound,
that we discover and trust.

A kind of writing-myself-into-a-corner exercise inspired by Paul Averitt's "Saying Goodbye"