Empty Thought
Before sleep grips
this hollow thought
a fluttering thought
begins what is not.
Wandering planes
divide the brain
and minutes cascade
to hours insane,
words escaping
from some lost tune.
That feeling comes
but goes too soon.
Numb and tired,
reality returns
to a hope long lost
and a heart that burns
and sleep does grip
this empty head
and in the soul
a thought is dead.










