Emptiness cannot be filled
with other than was destined
for the task.
As opportunity goes,
with it the filling,
healing that might have been.

Empty ache – void
will last a lifetime, but no more
for those who seek.
Still here – in human place
the hollow echo
rings on – and on – and on.

At times in pain
or ache or nothing at all;
conscious or unconscious, elated or less than present
the raw
fervency carries on in feverish
emptiness; deserted heart.

I wait for occupation.
It comes and goes – with glad cry
and bitter tears;
it never stays – the presence
always
takes its leave.