Empty Poem by shondarayan jarhel

when empty is abandoned it endures,
it does not rot or die or bleed or cry for warmth of tender touch
for emptiness is but one piece and has never known cut,
to fill is just to shift, from jar to to jar it jumps
from palm it flees to wrap round fist and when in mind so comes the thump.
its what is left when all is stripped, when promise slips its but its sum
it is what is and is as was before this is begun
there is no running from it,
for it's through what we would run
its constant is of comfort, and so of it I'll become
this empty is my love,
alas,
the only one.