In the quiet depths of your soul, where whispers dwell,
Is a space, vast and echoing, a personal well.
It may seem an abyss, urging you to find,
In external joys, the answers to which you are blind.
But hark, this void, this hollow, deep and true,
Is not a space for others to fill or renew.
It's a canvas, stark, waiting for your own hue,
For the masterpiece of self, only you can construe.
In the world's bazaar, they sell many a glittering thing,
Promising fulfillment, happiness they'll bring.
Yet these are but fleeting, ephemeral sparks,
Not the fire you need to banish the dark.
Turn instead to the mirror, look deep and see,
The only one who can complete thee is thee.
Your fears, your hopes, your dreams, your light,
Are the colors you need to make the void bright.
If you have a hole, fill it with you,
With your laughter, your tears, your perspective anew.
With your mistakes, your triumphs, your unique story,
In filling yourself, you find your true glory.
For in the end, when all is said and done,
The journey of self is the most important one.
In embracing yourself, with love, not rue,
You'll find the void no longer, as you've filled it with you.
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