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The Empty World



The world has always seemed empty,
despite the birds and bugs and all.
Empty of what?  What is missing?
What am I missing
(that may in fact be there, undetected,
or may be just a false impulse
toward what isn't)?
Despite the sun and rain, trees.
Despite people, obviously,
the world has always seemed empty.
I have been in it,
walking almost alone
through what should have been teeming
with...something.

All poems are written and copyrighted by Michael C. Rush.
None may be republished or repurposed without permission.