My hands are empty...

Because I have nothing to offer.

Having nothing and everything at the same time feels like holding the universe in your hands while feeling the weight of its vast emptiness in your heart.

In winter's past, I was a different soul, distant from what I am now. In the changing tides of time, I take comfort in standing on a cliff, one foot on each side. But the looming risk of instability could break this balance, leaving me with both feet on one side. The upcoming fall might lead to vulnerability and uncertainty. A fall awaits, a painful one.

Now,

I hold onto your words and letters, companions that converse in your absence. They beguile and charm, weaving tales anew. Purposefully deafening myself, I feign ignorance of the world's cacophony and the voices dissipate. In their stead, perhaps, only whispers persist, carrying the essence of your words. Ironically, I find joy in this orchestrated silence. Yet, I comprehend the dichotomy of possessing everything and nothing at once. It is a dance between abundance and emptiness, a nuanced symphony of existence.