more than empty. we are now a negative. a black hole. we've turned so far into ourselves that we're upside down. inside out. backwards. waywards. all that remains isn't even a shell. we are simply a cavern.
as if all the small things. worked slowly. like the trickle of water over eons. breaking away. bit by precious bit. then the flood gates open. and all evidence of existence is washed away. all that is left is a canyon. impassable. implausible.
but. the water doesn't just destroy. all the pieces of us. tumbling along. rushing over rocks. passing by the detritus of other lives. to eventually slow. to saunter. to settle. to create an island. peninsula. a small haven.
i suppose it's that glimmer of hope.
the quiet promise of becoming something else.
after all that you are has been ripped away.
perhaps that's what makes us stronger.