Empty

Yet it was the same empty... only now was it communicable.
My fault.
My intoxication.
My fall.
Her empty.

Solitary

Learning to be alone is perhaps something we need other people to teach us...
The promise I made was a bind of a promise.
And so I hid my face from the world...

Path of Empty

Yet every day I turn around to see nothing behind me,
Nothing ahead,
And I stop to wonder if I am lost.
It would appear so…
But the memories tell me it has always been this way,
The future a simple reflection of the past.
Both sides bear sin and anguish,
Vaguely blank, because the only thing on this path that is awry
Is the person who walks it.
Me.

What Was Night?

What was night?
I had spent many a sleepless night in fear of the answer,
awaiting an enlightenment that would ring with agony.
It was not the time of darkness, for my days were no lighter.
It was not the time of dreams, for mine were nightmares.
I had heard no such lullabies at the late hour,
Seen no such stars,
Watched no such moons.
But the weary people would always go to sleep, leaving their worlds, escaping their lives.
And it came to me on one occasion, during the previously undetermined time.
Night was the time that I was utterly alone in the world.
Such was the lonely learning of every one that followed.