Haunted Ghost

I become a sob
facing your words
those waves of your soul
wash me away
to this deep sea of self
where we are mirrors
and mirrored in mystery

I become a gust
of wind searching
your leaves to stir
what cannot be stirred
but maybe resound
in the core of roots

I became a ghost
– haunted –
eclipsed by your moon’s shadow
– silent and stoic and gleaming –
wafting across your sea
wailing around jagged rocks
where this world is ending.

by Martin

More to read at Cemetery of Forgotten Poems

Image by Artwalpaper

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