The Hand Held Empty

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The fortune of the hermit seeking

Lies within the hands beseeching

Hands which hold the empty hole

The holy note of nothing

An airy space of soul

Where all dwells

Cupped in spare

The hermit has no thing

Held forever

And free from burden of the known

The heart can skip

And meet the whole

Wherein the dwelling

All things meet

A treasure trove

Within retreat of breaking open

Moments newly birthed

Un named or shamed with meaning

The hand held empty out affords

The hidden hoard of possibility

© K J Barr

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