Empty....
birds of prey
picked the shell like flesh
from my bones till
they were bare...
and that which had echoed
the pounding waves,
and had held the wind...
bare bones, and empty...
no longer an echo,
no longer a cup...
the sound, the waves, the wind...
all empty!
from emptiness we come,
to emptiness we return!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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