an emptiness,
the nothing,
now tangible,
as he reaches out,
in the air to grasp it,
but he comes short,
as always,
he stands in silence,
empty-handed,
the darkness encroaching upon him,
and as he stands,
he weeps briny tears,
in deafening silence
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem