Date: Tuesday 6th, May Location: Melbourne, Victoria A Note To The Runners: Get my book here.
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Poem:
if there is nothing to say,
perhaps, I am empty.
a bowl with no fruit,
an ocean with no waves
I have been conditioned to overflow
to pour honey in every mug
aching to warm hands without gloves
and find way to move light through cracks
sometimes there is nothing to say
the flowers don't need turning
or blooming
there is enough food on the table
and the bread,
simply,
needs time to rise.
you forget
I forget
the power of nothing
of saying
of doing
of feeling
so if you have nothing to say,
rejoice.
sit with it
come again,
and admire the empty fruit bowl.
