Looking out across withered emptiness
I realize nothing wanders there but a stream
struggling aimlessly between rolling hills
some of which are girdled by twisted trees
poor stream itself looks lost going nowhere

Not even high tufted clouds show a hint rain
as they look down from their wind-blown trek
across a perfect sky looking down with disdain
as midday or midnight all share a sameness
and say nothing matters with nowhere to go

While I am feeling worthless bitter and cold
a desire to belong but no will left to seek
but what would it suffice would seeking
bring anything more nothing is there
going nowhere I see emptiness what is left?

…..Jerry Marks