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Darkness, Emptiness


Darkness, Emptiness, by Knox Juliet



But what is dark when there is no light to see

And what is empty when there is no thing to feel



But what is silent when there is no sound to hear

And what is confined when there is no space to fill

A room

A dark, empty, silent, confined, room

With nothing,

nothing but a child

A child who knows nothing of the world around

Who knows only this dark, silent, confined and empty space

A child who knows not land nor water, language nor speech, sight nor feeling

A child who knows not people

Does the child think?

How does a child, with no knowledge think?

Does the child feel?

How does a child, with nothing feel?

Does the child see? Hear? Sense?

This is life.

A life of nothing, but life, nevertheless.

The child knows of nothing, nothing but this room.

This dark, empty, silent and confined room.

Could it be, that it is pure?

Influenced by nothing from the outside world?

A dark and empty canvas, with nothing on it?

Or, just by living has it already been painted?

Painted, by a coat of blackness, emptiness, silence, and confinement.

Just one flash of light, one bolt of sound, would paint something new

In just one moment, everything could change

But what is time, when there is no length to measure it by?

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