Empty Pages

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

What comes after this,

when the perfect word

is penned?

What will they do with us

when there’s nothing left

to be said?

Every syllable uttered,

every turn of phrase,

every subtle inflection;

how will we spend our days?

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

I thought we had words

for a lifetime,

but it turns out

we still have empty page.

How did we end up this way?

Staring at each other,

with nothing left to say.

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

Filled the universe

with lines of code.

Ideas and fantasies we wrote.

Didn’t know how far we’d go

or that the script

would corrode.

Thought we were building worlds,

but our own lives

couldn’t keep a hold.

We stood there

without a word to describe

the fires on the threshold.

This story is so old,

I’m not even sure

that there’s enough left of it

to be told.

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

Our words run out,

the whole world doubts

and we begin to run from shadows.

We’ve spoken

every single word,

and now they all ring hollow.

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

What could I write down

that will speak to you

now and forever?

What words

would bring you pleasure?

What ideas

would you treasure?

Or, are we done speaking?

Are you finished reading?

Has it all lost all meaning?

I keep finding things

to fill the space

between the silence

and the ending.

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

                                                                                                                                                                                          .

HG – 2021

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