Form is emptiness; emptiness is form.
Atoms; compact and unbroken.
The base of all forms, all matter, even ourselves.
Yet, they are as unfilled as the great wide void of space.

Neutrons, protons;
Forming a dense cluster, like a cake that will not rise.
Around this, showers of electrons orbit,
The frosting on our poorly formed pastry.
Yet, they are as unfilled as the great wide void of space.

At any given moment, instant, second,
Our most basic support is made of more than ninety-nine percent emptiness.
Nothingness, even at the subtle level of matter.
How is this? Why is this?

Everything we know, like ghostly images;
We make them solid, accommodating, compassionate.
We make them supportive, firm, there;
But they are not.
They have never been and never will be.
Form is emptiness; emptiness is form.