The Whole Empty Poem by David Medforth

There will be dark days, but they will be rare. My world is shifting around me and the sounds it makes are overwhelming.
Black is not fear, regret, sadness nor fate. It is merely a canvass to which we must add each our own colour. And darkness an opportunity; a challenge to bring light.

The Empty is whole - at least, it once was - an all-consuming testament to self-doubt and denial. Black is the begin again. It is the reset. Black is the opportunity to show what you have learned and rewrite the future. Black is not failure; it is a new attempt. A different approach. A single soul plucked from a cast of thousands to bring colour to this fresh canvass.

The sounds are evolving. Growing. Beginning deeper within me and becoming louder. They are not a warning, but a guide. They haunt, and charm, and evoke, and teach. Always they are there. Beside me, around me and within me.
Nothing God made can beat me; only love and the way she treats me. Each time she takes a different form. Plays a different game. Lives by different rules. But always she remains the same. Always the music announces her. The colours represent her. The pain and ecstasy display her power.

Cacophony. Then sleep. So deep and complete that it almost seemed final. But I did not feel rested. I did not feel tired to begin with. I was taken, kidnapped from all I knew and dropped into the abyss.
It is dark down there. Silence. Isolation. Time to think, time to plan, time to prepare. But what is the objective? Thoughts and feelings betrayed me. Must I escape or was that my true home? Every decision I made - or that was made for me - has led me to this place. They were dark days and they were many. I knew no fear and that in itself scared me; to know that I was not afraid. Had I accepted the reality? Was this my life now?

Time and perspective are marvellous things. Rip it up. Start again. Let the darkness become so complete. The Black returns. The Whole Empty. Any colour you like, for this is the start, this is the now. The silence is shattered. There is music, colour and light.

Yes, there will be dark days, but they will be rare.