Emptiness Poetry Novels & Stories

I fill it like I fill the breath, like I fill the room, like I fill the night, like I fill the fragile parts of my plans, like I fill the long hours, like I fill, like I fill. The space is empty, and I am. I am. I am. I turn off the phone. I turn off the light. I turn off. The space is empty. I am.

It was at that point that a poem came to mind; “What is this strange feeling called? Like an empty can I feel void of emotions, void of life I feel the silence strangling life off me I want to scream I want to shout But no, The only thing that came out is a noise, not even loud enough to show just how I feel”

baby Hope said enthusiastically. "But should you? Should every empty moment be filled? Should every boring time become exciting? Should every quiet space become loud?" Echo's presence was gentle. Patient. "Emptiness teaches. Boredom creates. Quiet allows thinking. If you fill every empty moment, you never learn to be comfortable with nothing. Never learn to exist without constant stimulation. Never learn that peace is valuable. That quiet is necessary. That emptiness is part of life. That not every moment needs to be something. That nothing is sometimes exactly what you need." Baby Hope was confused. "Nothing is good?"

The entity expands slightly and Confluence sees more erased moments, all the suffering that existed in those cities before they were taken. “I’m ending that suffering permanently,” the Emptiness continues. “Not by destroying but by compassionately deleting. These people frozen in my preservation, they’re not suffering anymore. They’re not afraid or hurt or desperate. They simply are, suspended in peace.” “They’re not at peace,” Confluence argues. “They don’t exist enough to experience peace. You’re not saving them, you’re erasing them.” “Semantics,” the Emptiness dismisses. “The result is the same. No more suffering. I’m the hero of this story, small confluence. I’m saving existence from its