Eyes are fixed upon another dream, With features beyond belief, Like a scarlet witch, Who, Upon greater detail, Becomes a haunting shade, Teasing with the immaterial, Whilst a reality screams to be seen, For a curse is at play here, As no lenses can be found, Fixed upon the eyes of the dreamer immortal.
Up over houses, And between soft green leaves, Is a gentle blue haze, That gives new meaning, To a glorious breath, seized deeply, And from a silent window, For although the clouds have gone, And the sun has glanced back, I find - thankfully - There's still rain.
Though in life we live within the present, We unwittingly nurture, within us, Personalities beyond our reality, And when our friends leave us, We find that part of them actually remains, Waiting to connect with us again, But as our hearts and minds reach out, Expectantly, We find we are just haunted by the ghosts,… Continue reading The Ghosts of Those Departed
In the place of those who take leave, Better things can be found, Such as when the rain comes; Summer bark may turn black, Yet alongside it, Colours begin to pop.
On a boring day, my addictions continue, Either taking me to lands-end, Or the minor details in-between, So whilst bound by life, I take the time, To rub wax; A way of preparing, For the sacred ritual, Blessed in oil, And summoned by a spark, That waits within me, Barely contained.