My world is filled with spaces. 

From far-reaching fields between home and town, 

to the gaps connecting dreams to reality, 

spaces are abundant if not all consuming. 

In my world of not-goings-on 

and waiting patiently, 

interruptions to the vast and endless are lasting. 

Solidly weighted, 

they leave impressions on the void. 

Like concrete pillars—imposing

I approach them with care. 

Adding margins more, 

and circling, 

—walled away from joining in.

Then through a passage, 

I’ve forgotten the void. 

But found again, I live in between,

wandering in clouds of nothing.