I don’t even dream of rescue anymore.
Just emptiness.
A hollow sky stretched over a hollow sea.
No sails on the horizon.
No voice calling my name.
Just the echo of my own silence
bouncing off the waves.
I tell myself it’s temporary,
but the tide never changes.
I tell myself someone will come,
but the stars don’t move.
I tell myself I matter,
but the ocean doesn’t answer.
So I drift.
Not with hope.
Just with memory.
Of what it felt like
to believe in something.
-jason
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7 responses to “The Dream of Emptiness”
Jason, I wrote this last year…
Who is holding you
While you’re falling apart
Whom are you holding on to
While you’re grappling
With your heart
Lifeline or lifeboat
What difference does it make
When no one
Is coming to the rescue
And you’re left wasted.
You wrote this last year? Like about the same topic. It was writer with a meaning. A meaning that will never be heard.
Written with a lot of meaning and heaviness. One year later, I’m still there.
I know it’s like we’re waiting for a train that’s not coming. But we continue to wait.
Isn’t that true. You remind me of Waiting for Godot, did you have to study this? I was so bored 😅
Sounds peaceful. Internal work only gets done in such spaces. This is a beautiful piece, Jason.
Bat,
Thank you. Truly. This comes from deep within me—from the part that endured, that turned one day and found the world changed, emptied, quiet. And yet, somehow, still burning with the need to speak.
Your response… it met me there. Not just with understanding, but with beauty. You felt this piece the way I do, and that means more than I can say. To be seen like that—to be held in language—is a gift I don’t take lightly.
Im grateful to share it with someone who honors it so fully.
With much love and respect,
—Jason