I feel empty of everything, for whether it is a feeling which would come out of some subjectiveness or a conscious mental effort.
I don't know, how often I think about you. It is some sort of concealed grief! The moisture do gets produced from the eyes and the sobbing softness of heart has always so much to say.
Although the inner stratum seems to be devoid of any feeling but there is a generous flow of mighty support which encourages me to keep moving forward regardless of the hard knocks.
-You are my seawalls, I love your hands as they protect me from hitting hard to erosion.
