How do I fill this hole?
It began so small, but the rains of time had eroded it
and it grew and grew until I was left standing
alone
in this hole.
And then there was you,
but the hole was too small for both of us.
So I grabbed my shovel and dug out the walls –
I made it deeper in the hope that
we would fill it together, you and I.
And when I looked up from the task
I see that you have gone.
On the horizon, I can see you in the distance
but I cannot tell if you are coming or going
or if it was all a daydreamed mirage.
I am left with this hole now,
deep enough to be a shallow grave
which grows deeper every passing day.
Will it erode further into a tomb
for the past, the future, my heart or my spirit?
Can I fill the hole with the earth I excavated?
Weathering has dried the soil
and it cannot fill this chasm again,
cannot undo this dusty river bed
through which the trickle of time flows.
And so how do I fill this hole?
Come back to me, my wayfaring friend –
let not my sorrow but our joy reside
together
in this hole.
Cold wind blows, the sea is knowing, 
