I wonder if I will ever fill the hole
The hole that I feel sometimes
The one that I always think I should fill
Whenever I feel it

When I do try to fill it
I never really know for sure
What I’m supposed to fill it with
I’ve tried many things

On rare occasions I think
Hey … that hole filled up a little bit
And then … the hole remains

Now I’m starting to think
Maybe the hole is supposed to be there
Just like it is
Whenever it is

Like an itch I can’t scratch
Something in me is programmed to fill the hole
I’m thinking again … maybe the hole is supposed to be there
Just like it is
Whenever it is

Maybe it’s the hole
That drives us to our dreams
Maybe it’s the hole
That is our muse
Maybe it’s the hole
Where compassion lives
Maybe it’s the hole
Where creativity grows
Maybe it’s the hole
Where understanding walks
Maybe it’s the hole
Where knowledge hides
Maybe it’s the hole
Where love resides

Maybe the hole
Is supposed to be there
Just like it is
Whenever it is
Maybe the hole
Can’t be filled
Maybe the hole ... is whole


P.S...  Someone close to me, when I read this poem to her, said when she heard it she kept thinking I was saying "whole" every time I said 'hole".
I thought, hey that's pretty cool ... it works although it comes from a different place. Very Cosmic!