Who am I when not loved? Floating in the hands of others, Cradled and cupped, Their eyes and how they see me making me light. Without it I could drown  Wash up and waste away - Then I could be anything  Inanimate, Empty with everythings  They keep me full.  Who

Living is looking forward  to nothing, Looking forward to everything,  means actually to,  Look forward  to nothing.  In that to look forward  is to abandon  the moment, The most living and ferocious real everything we have, Because what’s forward  is nothing  Nothing  - and I mean a white hazy

Things are settling now The sediments of life breeze into a space  You once inhabited -  I, empty  out as it fills. Perhaps,  It is pieces of me that are taken  to fill in this gap.