Thursday, January 11, 2018

A Whole Sonnet in Two Halves

A hole is nothing but humility,
existence that can only be defined
by absence, and though anything the mind
can conjure it contains, to the degree
it does so it can only leave behind
its full potential emptiness, but when
all else is gone, then it exists again.

A whole is more than the sum of its parts,
it was nothing before the space was there
to hold it, empty, clear expanses where
ideas take form and inspiration starts
to draw to itself that which it would bear,
and that which, being born, will always hold,
behind itself, the presence of its mold.

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