Hollow

It is empty when it all falls away.
There is nothing to cling to, or for in which to hope.
There is no ground to stand on.
Oh no! It’s moving!
Moving and churning and turning like the ocean, but there is no ocean.
So great is the distance that its sparkling reflections are a only a fading photograph locked in a dimming mind.
Even the sky disappears behind milky pollution.
At night the stars of our ancestors are blocked from the eye’s view by our brilliant and obnoxious urban lights.
Til their heartbeat grows faint, faint, and the forests and rivers forgotten.
Even rural areas spread out sickening pools of false illumination in fear, to keep away trespassers on land that never belonged to them.
As though we could create something better than the Gods.
You are like children, not in your innocence, but in the ego.
Where is the place or space for a simple man?
Meet one.
Greet one.
Yet each one, a zombie.
This is the hollow retreat.

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