The Hollow Rising

Emptiness does not have to remain mute. When pain finally receives a voice and direction, the hollow within can become the space from which a person rises again.

The Hollow Rising captures pain at the moment it stops folding inward. At first there is only an empty chamber, a bodily pulse, and a violin sounding like grief without words. The track does not fill that emptiness with quick consolation. It lets every wound become a wave and every tone become fire until motion replaces immobilized suffering. A voice gradually rises from the place that seemed lifeless, bringing the first genuine choice with it. Rising therefore does not deny the fall. It grows directly from that fall and carries its memory. When the narrator finally becomes the sun, the image promises neither perfection nor permanent happiness. It is the fierce vision of a person no longer defined only by what is missing. The hollow remains part of the story, but it is no longer the narrator's only name.