My life is turned, a void persists. Persistance is futile, and voids are full only in their emptiness. A fullness of emptiness. It is the emptiness that fills, it is the emptiness that lasts, that persists. Swallow me I command, and yet it does not.
For I, and I alone, would fill the Emptiness, and it would cease; Persistance is futile.
I fill the void.