The Feeling of Emptiness

The Feeling of Emptiness

I have written so much, so far, so deep,

Words that once filled my heart now sleep.

Every thought, every feeling I had within,

Has poured out like whispers in the wind.

Yet still, a strange emptiness I feel,

As though my soul forgot how to heal.

The storm inside that used to brew,

Now lies silent, with nothing new.

Ideas no longer knock on my door,

The tide of thoughts doesn’t rise anymore.

My mind, once a river, now stands still,

Perhaps it’s time to wait, to refill.

Is this pause a sign to rest?

Or a new beginning, a silent test?

Every writer faces this quiet phase,

When words seem lost in a distant haze.

The flow of thoughts halts for a while,

But in this pause hides a subtle smile.

New seeds of ideas take root in the dark,

Preparing to ignite a creative spark.

Don’t fear this void, embrace its grace,

Even silence has its rightful place.

For the mind, too, seeks time to heal,

To gather strength, to renew its zeal.

This stillness is not the end of the line,

It’s the prelude to a spark divine.

Like the calm before the storm arrives,

Soon, the words will come alive.

Every pen dulls, every page turns bare,

When the heart seeks moments of repair.

Let this emptiness cradle your soul,

It’s a step toward becoming whole.

For in this quiet lies a hidden art,

The rebirth of thoughts from a rested heart.

The silence will teach, the void will create,

A new rhythm of words, a renewed state.

So rest, let your spirit drift,

Soon you’ll find your creative gift.

What feels like nothing is just a pause,

Preparing for a flow with a greater cause.

The emptiness is its own kind of muse,

A chance to reflect, to pause and choose.

What lies ahead, you cannot yet see,

But know, it’s all part of the poetry.

One day, the ideas will bloom again,

Like flowers rising after the rain.

The words will flow like rivers anew,

And fill the pages with something true.

So don’t rush, let the silence stay,

It’s teaching your mind a softer way.

The emptiness you feel is not an end,

But the stillness where new journeys begin.

For creativity never truly dies,

It merely rests beneath quiet skies.

And soon, you’ll write with a roaring flame,

Transforming this emptiness into your name.