summer winter

my emptyness is temporary
and in it i dwell.

i occupy its hollow
so much so

that i repeatedly wail
determined to hear my own echo.
next season

i will i see no more the brim

and lament all the same

because the overabundance

will smother me,

so much so

that it will spill over,

and being the aquarian i am

i shall momentarily long for the strife

of having nothing