A nothing of dreaming of something unknown. Everything wanted, bought from this material world. What is needed, missing; something to feed the Muse and the Sage. Both have died; the cup overflowing, waving goodbye.
Go back to the beginning, the story was formless, the wisdom never spoken. Sadness and the Emptiness going through the motions, colliding but never meeting. Ironically, Solitude can’t understand why; all this commotion and no connections.
Don’t come back stranger, we cannot remember to speak your name.