Why do I feel
so empty..
having bled,
profusely..
from God’s heart?
Despite the fact that,
as a vessel of His will,
I’ve done
my humble part?

I get a thrilling rush
when I cut deep.
I’m mesmerized
by how it flows..
entranced by it,
I pray and mumble
as I weep.

But once it’s out,
what is there left?
Not joy. Not anything.
A hollow nothingness.
The sort of nothing
that engulfs you
after Death.

I left a-many
marking,
strange and
frightening,
upon my canvas
of coastal sands.
Mere afterimages
of their creator..
molded into shape
by his own pair of
trembling hands.

The ebbs and flows
of ocean tides
shall wash them
all away..
So all I feel.. is nothing.
I would shed
another tear for them,
but I cannot..
try though I may

For, I am
not much different
from all the nothings
that I left behind.
Mere ripples..
Interference patterns,
ever dissipating..
left upon the surface
of God’s mind.