"Empty"
Poetry by Michael F. Nyiri
Jan 24, 2006 6:15am pst
Fullillment has never been
gained
No matter how emphatic one tries
The expression remains pained
I begin the day seeming
whole and refreshed
A shower, glorious water cleansing
Yet the feelings seldom stay around
And depression sneaks in the room unawares
Each year's end gives pause
for reflection
And sometimes the image looking up
out of the pool of tears does not smile
I give my little sermons
about fulfillment
as I have for decades, sourcing passion
and creativity as lynchpins for happiness
Yet, I tend to falter in my step,
And sleep demands a greater segment of my
time on Earth,
I feel tired
And irresolute
Plans are but lines of type on the mind's eye
very easily erased by indecision and lethargy
The poems are reread, and
the ideas absorbed
The questions, never answered, are asked again
I don't want to talk about it, or see anyone
I don't want to grovel, nor to seem filled with sadness
Because I am not full
Of anything
I am just empty.
Fulfillment was always a goal in the distance
No matter how much time passes
The gaining of fulfillment meets resistance
I gauge each hour by waiting
for the next
I watch the clock of callousness tick past my inability
I gaze toward the end of worktime,
but then I merely wish to sleep
to rest and breathe freely
to loose my mind's wanderings
down the path of subtle shock and sadness
Will fulfillment arrive
ever
?
Or is empty my vessel
until the final stages of sleep wash over my life?
Poetry
2006
