The Paradox of Empty

Void. A hollow echo in the chambers of the mind. Absence made tangible, a negative space carved into the fabric of being. It swallows sound, light, the very breath it takes to utter it. Emptiness. A vast expanse where connection dissolves, leaving only the cold, hard edges of self. Is it the absence of love? The evaporation of hope? The silence after the last note fades? Or is it a canvas, stark and bare, awaiting the first stroke of creation? A fertile ground where potential lies dormant, a pregnant pause before the universe expands again? Emptiest word, yet pregnant with possibility, a paradox whispered on the edge of silence. ©bfa042125