The weight of emptiness

In the land where shadows linger long, Where echoes dance to a forgotten song, There dwelt a soul, adrift in the void, Wrestling with the burdens, quietly deployed. Upon a canvas vast, a silence spread, The heart, a heavy anchor, tears unshed, For emptiness, a paradox profound, Could weigh a spirit down without a sound. In the moon's soft gaze, it whispered low, Of dreams unspooled, like threads that flow, Each hope a star that flickered and died, Yet in their absence, a burden applied. Behold the hero, clad in shadow’s shroud, With weary steps, beneath a weeping cloud, He sought to forge from nothingness, a form, But found his heart ensnared, the tempest's norm. Oft did he wander through fields of despair, Where silence draped itself, a heavy air, With every breath, a weight upon his chest, His empty thoughts a never-ending quest. “What is this weight?” he pondered in the night, “Is emptiness a phantom or pure light?” For in the hollowness, a whisper stayed, Resilience born from longing, masquerade. He met a traveler with wisdom keen, Who spoke of paths where absence turns to green, “Emptine