So many vacancies. Vapid halls and streets. No air. No hearts. Vacant lands and souls. Be a hand. Be a thread. Be a source. Be love. Be the patience. The light . . . the empty chair. Where you can invite someone to sit Spend time. Where each other can fill up the world again. Willingly wise, adopting time. Fractures will fade Patches of hope emerge Color of Grass will grow again. Sweet fragrant spring grass. Practicing progress For each season A seat for everyone.
This short poem is about owning yourself, you only give what you want to someone. You have the power to give something with limits. No one own you but yourself. Never think someone own you for any reason, you control your life as you please.