Who are you, the one that is,
and where are you, when nothing exists?
Born out of a word, I cary my understanding in a divine emptiness.

I ask if I am, but the cry doesn't break from me,
we stay one, adding loneliness to emptiness.

With the gift of some syllable, I constantly move from stillness, the spherical voids, into other voids, alike and without margins.

Forever staggering the fixed state of unbeings, in an eternal today, with an aura of vacuum
I pray that you are.
of me, I pray that you are.

Show yourself.