Empty is this
vessel, my body
But its sound is not
It still rustles, throbs, warbles.
And to this world,
its sound can be music.
It can be noise, turbulence, chaos.
And it can be deafening silence.
Empty is my soul, my mind.
But its core, its foundation is not.
For it still knows to love.
And to this world,
its love can be
sacred.
It can be ugly, wanton, sinful.
And it can be casually indifferent.
Empty is my word, my
song.
But its meaning is
not.
And I will still keep humming it.
For if this world
understands it a little
It will become full,
my word.
And if You, that someone somewhere in
this world,
can understand it
full,
I would make You my
world.
picture source https://www.pinterest.com/pin/549087379540068999/
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