Emptiness Is Both An Illusion And An Irony
emptiness is always an illusion
which carries with it an irony.
when i look at it, as its content shows,
it has nothing
bare hands, opening fingers,
an empty transparent ball, it can
tell your future, it can dig your
thinking that it is spacious, i went
inside it, pierce myself though it
only to find that that are so many
crowding elements in there and they
are choking me and you who is looking
outside it, thinks that nothing is happening
but then the struggle is horrible, quick
and even deadly, so many hang themselves in
empty air, and lose their lives, because
you cannot see the body of breathing,
when you learn to live with it however,
you become full, emptiness is its irony,
its antithesis, for how can you ever be full
if you have never known how to empty yourself?
the face of emptiness is a mist, and you touch
it, you will hold a forest, so many black birds,
myriad exotic orchids, so many blending sounds of
trees screaming, of creeks flowing of waterfalls
cascading that you can relate to the locks of
your hair and the hairs of your armpits,
inside it is too personal to be told, outside it
are so many denials with the faces of the people
that you have loved before, and then you decide
to stay at a distance, you are like a tree
dark as a shadow, counting the hours
when the sun finally fades away.
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