Emptiness

When there’s a hollow within the core,

a sense of unwholeness.

At the bottom there is a deep sore,

the rhythmic beat sustains, with the inborn illness.

Every beat of the pounding heart is felt,

Whether skipped or added.

There’s a trotting horse inside,

Even when you repose like a dead.

No course can cure the wound,

Except that of your very own thoughts.

Which may either lead to darkness,

Or heal the various distorts.

The feel of emptiness is a malady,

the afflicted seeks just for love.

None can anguish ,unless undergo.

A close embrace to the victim is good enough.

This vacancy in self can surely be filled in,

every drop of best thoughts, turns into a medicine.

Although difficult, but doable.

Perpetual attempt can hinder the life to be ruined.

Each of us cross this bridge of emptiness,

at least once in our lifetime.

Inspite of owning everything, something having missed.

Emptiness if prolonged, you will sink within.