Ghosts
We believe in these ghostsyou may say you dont but you are one of the most
who think that what we experience stays on the brain
the hardest to erase, a perpetual stain
this puzzle that has never been solved by now
to all the experienced it causes a row
searching for years just for a semblance
of something that was real, now leaving remnants
confusion, maybe mixed with an element of surprise
causes the ignorant to surmise
the existence of another power
remnants of a past life that appear only at this hour
wisps of smoke rise from our former being
things that make hope, things we can believe in
our ghosts float, while we blunder through organised chaos
imperfect by design, ironic by character
through the darkness however there is one light
one ghost that has put an end to my plight
invisible to those that do not believe
but clear as the light of the day is to me
no longer ironic, no longer a blunder
but now an object of unyielding wonder
no longer a semblance of what used to be real
the vision, the architect and mason of my new identity
two ghosts intertwined, one new being
complete, careful, happy, serene.
Poetry by Steven Mawer
Read 767 times
Written on 2009-10-09 at 23:24
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