Emptiness Poetry 소설 & 이야기

No careful calibration of emotion for an audience. What I saw was worse than any of those things. It was emptiness. A vast, hollow, echoing emptiness where a person should have been. Not the emptiness of sadness or grief or loss — those are full emotions, dense with meaning. This was the emptiness of absence. Of something that was never there to begin with. As if the Lily I had grown up with — the sister, the rival, the shadow — had always been a projection of humanity, and the thing behind the projection was simply... nothing.

Not pity. Only emptiness.

“Choice is endless. Paths are infinite. Emptiness is just one choice among many—and no one has to take it.” They charged toward the void, and the doors of possibility followed, wrapping around it like a web of light and life. Each door showed a different path—a world where peace was chosen over war, where creation was chosen over destruction, where connection was chosen over isolation. The void twisted and thrashed, but the paths held fast, showing it that emptiness was not the only end.

“…Uncertainty leads to loss.” I Nod “Yes.” Then I Add “But control leads to emptiness.” That Word Hits Emptiness. Because it knows that word now The Gap Changed Everything That moment That conversation with nothingness Echoed here. It Felt It Too The World Around Us The sky flickered again. Movement trying to return. But still held back. Theodore Watches Closely “Say the word,” he muttered behind me. “And we end this.” I Don’t Turn Because this Wasn’t something we could win by force.

"Yeah, honey. I'm wiped, but I'm so happy I get to see you." I simply replied, "Okay." Since he'd "left for work," I hadn't set foot in the place we shared. I stayed at my own apartment because the condo felt contaminated by him. … That night, he came home to the condo buzzing with energy, only to realize I wasn't there. He sounded wounded over the phone. "Honey, why weren't you here to greet me? Do you know how sad it feels to come home to an empty place? Come on, make it up to me."

Somewhere in a grove no one could map, a book lay open on a flat stone its pages blank save for a single line, written not in ink, but pressed with intention: “Here is where we did not speak and still, the world listened.” A wind turned the page. Then left it open for the next to come.

A glow of wisdom, of knowledge and old A tale of a world, where myths unfold In cities of wonder, where dreams are made The streets whisper stories, of a world yet unafraid A world of possibility, of hope and desire Where hearts beat strong, and love sets the fire In the silence of night, where darkness reigns A light flickers softly, a beacon that remains A light of guidance, of hope and peace A shining star, that the heart can release In the depths of the soul, where emotions reside A voice whispers softly, a gentle, loving tide A tide of compassion, of empathy and kindness true A heart that beats strongly, with a love that shines through In the realm of eternity, where time stands still A

It was rare that I had a moment of quiet without anyone demanding my attention, but right now, it was just me, the water, and the soothing sound of its flow. After I finished, I slipped into my pyjamas and fell into my bed, my body sinking into the soft mattress. As I pulled the covers up to my chin, my head nestled into the pillow, I released a deep sigh of contentment. I was finally able to take a deep breath, relax, and unwind from the busy day. I closed my eyes and let myself drift away into a dreamless sleep. …….

Prologue Emptiness— the feeling of missing something like a deep hole was dug down inside your heart. It will slowly push you to complete oblivion, reeling by morbid darkness that will consume you until all you have left is your own voice to be able to call somebody for help. But is someone willing to take the risk? To let themselves sink by my caged emotions? Imprisoned by an unreal pain that I craved more than a pointless knife piercing me down endlessly. Is someone willing to save me from the monster of my own abnormality?

We force them in our shoes, but we seldom put us in the pitied. Continuously driving ourselves to this diminished society, looking for worth when there is nothing left because of us. Here I am writing this poem. Is it filled with irony? Considerable as a meek step for an extravagant change? Or are you guilty of these words? We all are. We may not pull out our modern notebooks to be witnesses, but we keep our eyes on the action. We stare. We watch. We look at the devil's eye instead. Grasp the valorous act, yet still fill it with real humility.