I see the ghost
Of who I once was
And the ghost
Of who I hoped to be
I awaken
To the phantom
That is who I have become
I awaken
To the phantom
That is who I have become
I breathe
Speaking the words in my mind
Over the chatter of thoughts
Breathing in
Breathing out
Displacing the chatter
My thinking stills
So that the maw closes
Upon the vacuum
That is the peace
Of a quiet mind
Without fear
To sustain it
The maw dies
Revealed as an illusion
Created by fear
The entire structure collapsed
Under the weight of culpability
Leaving him, finally, exposed
Had he any integrity at all
Such a rampart may have protected him
Buttressing his image sealed his doom
Themes and thoughts that did emerge
With promise of infinity
Then vanished at a wall
Leaving not a word at all
Instead I wrote this deathly dirge
To writer’s block I fall
I can’t perch where the caged bird sings
But to her fearful trill
Take up harmony
This free bird sings so to keep her wing
Shadows can be too dark
Highlights can be too bright
In the grey all is line and texture
I see the form of what is
Without interpreting darkness and light
Their darkest hour
To bed confined
For none the power
To stall the march of death’s decline
And so alone
Souls pass away
While not a hand
Is offered they
But latex glove
The touch at end of earthly stay