It would appear that glass is empty
I keep forgetting to fill it,
Perhaps because the glass is cloudy
I can see it in my head,
Once full and brimming with possibilities,
Now, for lack of attention or regard,
It sits on a shelf all dusty.
It seems that when the glass lies empty
My eyes don't see color
My heart beats out of time
My words, hollow, unformed on my tongue.
I'm not sure that I should fill my cup
Or allow it to be filled.
Between wearing the weary and living the life.
I choose to watch waves breaking.
I can see my self working and trying to fill
I can see those same precious drops spilling,
I can almost taste those sweet spring time drops,
Yet here I sit, empty, not filling.
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