There is a space inside the heart That is almost never filled The emptiness is hungry, yearning writhing, never still We try to fill it desperately With grasping hands we claw Money, things, people, The fresh, the new and raw Relationships we think we know We covet for our own Position, lovers, destiny We dig our hands to bone That empty space stays vacant An angry mouth to feed It craves the simplest filling The planting of a seed The fruit of appreciation That's generated within The belief that you are something A prize inside your skin It cannot be granted by others No item can fulfill Generated internally By strength of one's own will -a