I’m tightrope-walking on a shadowthread,
Between the incandescent bars of light.
Haunted by day, I seek solace at night,
And I dance with the ghosts in my head.
Candlewicks, like spectres braided in the flame,
Beckon darker dreams, that pour from pupils wide;
Nostalgia floods the room, and drowns me in the tide,
But I see so much more all the same.
I realise I’ve never been alone.
Dramatic cloudscapes glow like dragonscales.
Venus answers first, and then twilight unveils
Concentric spirals perched on distant thrones,
Arcane watchers since earth was wet with tears.
Carved from marbled heavens, they will stand
To see this comet crumble into sand.
Yet, something stretches far beyond the years:
Through labyrinths of golden gorse still pearled with laughs,
An endless line, which dives between the dripping dew,
Weaves an incensed tapestry, one of me and of you,
And it hangs from my neck like a scarf.
Ghosts
Written by
in Poetry
