Not my emptiness, no. I have life, mercy of mercies.
Partly, I ache because there is emptiness. Because as I move through life at a trot, I often feel like the landscape is littered by people I love, scattered out like spent shells. Because where there should be life, and love, and liberty, there is just this horror of stillness…
But mostly, I ache because there are too many 60 second stretches in a day, when I do nothing about it.
The emptiness, I mean.
I won’t even run down all of why…
Just this, tonight:
The entirety of my life is to be spent doing one of two things:
or giving it.
All else breeds emptiness. Is emptiness.