Grasping Strands Of Meaning

What can be understood? Is every thought empty?

Claws scratch at the surface of empty words wishing, 

forever hoping for them to be something more 

Hearts envy the hollow nothings that grow, 

nurtured just as the ever-towering trees 

Minds peruse the vacant thoughts that take refuge, 

shelter in the hidden sanctums of the brain, and so never to be seen

or understood.

Author's Note

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