Empty is a full space. The void contains timelessness. I have been anxious to meet empty very, very anxious. I have avoided empty feelings only to notice empty more prominently. Sometimes I have saught for empty spaces nature dressing up the unfathomable sheltered, I have for brief moments, relished a deep inhalation of empty air pregnant with morning dew, ladened with pollens empty air rushing into gasping, expanded lung-sacks, permeable organic things squeezed into companionship among billions of cells made up of stardust. The spaces between stars, empty? Between breaths, universes? Empty is not so empty: impish a-void-er! Nothingness vastly embraces and fills you. Full of space, I step through the portal of this Thursday morning: 6/22/23
A place where thought seeps out . . . sometimes out of the most unexpected places