The Myth of Emptiness

When trade winds die, and breezes cease to blow
The sun's rays slice the vault, a brutal knife.
The vast, unending waves, so dark and low
Seem empty, deathly calm, devoid of life.

On cloudless nights, we gaze into the sky,
An infinitely dark and lonely place,
Where mankind has no home, can only try
To think and dream and fill the barren space.

A grieving heart that aches for what is past.
That loses faith, that cannot love, or dream.
Waits only for finality, a Last.
Longs hopelessly to join that Western stream.

Yet all these things, the heart, the sky, the sea.
Are full of beauty, waiting for release.