I live inside of a hollow man. A child trying to fill the space. I wake up every morning to that task. Some days I feel the space inside and that little child in awe and fear of it. Some days I look around and see where I can grow. Some days the feeling of emptiness grows.

I live inside of a hollow man. Every day I must work hard to fill the shell, if I don’t something else will come in. Nature abhors a vacuum. I tried to fill it for years with fluff, smoke. It appeared white, but carried the darkness inside. Its so strange. I used dark to try and drown the darkness. How absurd !

I live inside of an insane, hollow man. I work hard each day to find the little boy at the center and talk to him about the world he has built to fill the hollow man. Not an easy task tearing down that armour. The child sees those things as essential protection. He doesn’t want to be naked anymore. He gets hurt when he is there, when others can see him.

I live inside of a hollow man. I look inside and see that mewling child, the one that has been hiding under cover for so long. I hold him, crooning to him, telling him how much I love him. I am still faced with the task of filling the space. We show up together, face the emptiness, and with your help, begin to build.

I live inside of a hollow man. I thought that I had to do it all myself. That’s where I was wrong. I fill him with love and light for myself and become comfortable enough  to invite you in. We become the light and love that pours out of the hollow mans eyes.

I see me, I love me, and I am not alone, anymore.

I see you, I love you, and you are not alone, anymore.

You see me, you love me, and we are not alone, anymore