The void is not empty,
But full of hunger.
It shallows sound, shallows time,
A patient mouth, opens and waiting.

No edges, no walls,
Only the stretch of absence,
A silence so deep it hums,
A space so vast it presses inward.

You fall into in,
But your voice dissolves,
Pull apart thread by thread,
Until even the memory of sound is lost.

Here, the stars are distant ghosts,
Flickering in the periphery before vanishing,
But the weight of nothing,
Crushes you all the same.

There is no light, no shadow,
Only the endless breath, of something that doesn’t breath,
The echo of something, that was never there.