Dear Emptiness,

How ironic it is that when I feel you I am so full… but so full of nothing.

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Stomachs feel you, Emptiness.  Treasuries feel you as debt piles up.  And people’s willingness to bare the yokes of oppression in times of utmost disparity feel you as well.  Societies become overwhelmed by your incessant presence and demand revolutionary change in order to replace your presence, Emptiness.

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But you are irreplaceable.  Because when things run out, you are always the first one to be there for those who need sympathy, guidance, love, attention, and care.  Emptiness, you are there for the child who lacks guidance from their father, who is missing forgiveness from their mother, who needs a jocose prank from a brother, who experiences the paucity of their sister’s predilection to speak with them.

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Luckily, I don’t feel you very often, Emptiness; and my family is always full of something.  (It’s no nirvana and we don’t have the proximity of an atomic bond with each other, but it is a relationship that deserves more of my appreciation.)  When my power to adapt to adversity is relinquished, I allow you to console with me, Emptiness.  Fortunately, I don’t let you stay for longer.

But I have felt a different variation of you, Emptiness, that I have never felt before now.  You, Emptiness, were there while I watched Love depart from me.  Love was only returning to where Love resided and would return to me again, yet Emptiness was still there to console with me.

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Truly yours,

Chris.

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