Emptiness

There is always this emptiness after,
after someone has touched your soul.
All that is fragile becomes maladaptive.
Is it final? Though… is it a call?

There’s always this emptiness falling,
being fated by others’ insights.
Do you see all these stones still keep rolling?
Do you sense that your demons
keep breathing inside?

One’s own talented mind
easily blows itself up.
The flow of poisoned blood
washes the passionate heart.
A body wanting to live
as it knows how to die.
(Oh, God, why?)
…

Feelings barely flow
while the truth stays untold —
a sense of emptiness grows
as the essence of the world.
Here I am, ever free
in the heart of the desert —
waiting for someone to show me
how to make things feel better.

Being part of this space,
you become part of the sand
used to form heavy castles
at the edge of the land.
Broken edges are so well known,
damn… so there is no hope
that there might be something
to believe in and hold.

One’s own talented mind
easily blows itself up.
The flow of poisoned blood
washes the passionate heart.
A body wanting to live
as it knows how to die.
(Oh, God, why?)

But you know, all the edges
lead to the opposite side.
All the bridges are made
to bring someone beside…
All we own are the stories
someone told us before.
There’s always a chance
to build anew. Therefore

there’s always a chance
to build anew.
Therefore

2021