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It's fresh like a flower,
picked from its bed.

It's the momentary second,
before a child cries.

It's the stone cold silence,
in the air of a dark night.


It's the bawling of a newborn.
It's the tears for a lost love.
It's the sadness of a forgotten one.


It's the emptiness of a bottle.
It's the hollowness of a shadow.
It's the loneliness of an only child.


It's the hopefulness of a mother,
who's child will never return.

It's the faith of a nation,
in winning a war.

It's the love for an individual,
and seeing through every flaw.

when it begins it has no end
it's the repetitive cycle of life,
when the flower grows again.

& I am everything;
because i hear, see and feel it all.
yet I am nothing;
because i break, distort and damage it all.