My world is filled with spaces. 

Far-reaching fields between home and town, 

And gaps from dreams to reality. 

Spaces are abundant if not consuming. 

In my world of waiting, 

interruptions to the vast are lasting,

leaving impressions on the void. 

Like concrete pillars—imposing—

I approach them with care. 

Adding margins more, 

and circling, 

I view from afar.

In between,

I wander in clouds of nothing.