Empty

Empty

Empty

When words become echoes of the self one minute past

When what’s seen passes and is forgotten

When details are absorbed into the surroundings

When recollections are blurs

When the body is a vessel

When the mind wants to cease

Empty

Empty

Empty

And the heart leaves all thoughts behind

Because wanderers or not we all are lost

-(when words randomly string themselves together,
they give me a sense that perhaps,

I am not empty.)