I find empty things somewhat beautiful
Quite abstract, transient yet fascinating,
How they can disappear or reappear;
Like ocean waves, snowflakes or spaces.
From distant corners, I listen and search
For their existence, beginning or end.
And there are those who think that if I stop
Looking then and there, they're forever lost.
But even if I don't or when I do,
Still, they are that quiet comfort, somewhere-
Like you to me, me to you
Perhaps both
Empty and beautiful-
Equally, Inversely,
Synonymous.
YOU ARE READING
Summer Sands
PoetrySummer The days are longer The night skies Draped in stars, Shimmering pearls in the ocean; While the seagulls soar Above the ever, turning tides.
