Abandoned Spaces

The pieces

that are no

more

have stories

to tell.

A barn's wood fallen

and gone forever.

There are spaces

that hold no

thing; places

full of emptiness.

Dark matter is

a cornucopia of

drifted living

and delight.

A quark has 

full abandon

toward

the quasar's core;

a leaf becomes the

ground, abandoning

the tree.

What writes

these changes

invisibly

into life's

design?

When are the

decisions made

to leave a thing go;

and where?

I can still

feel the dry

and dusty dirt

between my toes

from the base

of the tree

at mom-mom's.

The twigs all

scattered around

it's base

awaiting me 

to build them

into towers

and bridges

and forts.

I can no longer

see those things;

their absent presence

and goneness has

leaned an impression

upon my me.

But,

I feel them.

Perhaps the

space between 

the stars is

feeling; the

hollow around

the heart is

memory. I 

cannot say

for sure.

I know the

space of abandoned

places

is not really

bereft and

alone;

it holds something

intuited beyond

just form.

It's emptiness 

is feeling;

it's emptiness 

is full.