We move through like invisible ghosts

Haunted by the thoughts that speak without voice

Meandering wind like whisperings

In the thick syrup night of darkness

Heavy air pressing down

Consuming our souls left unattended.

We wander through searching

Watching those that move past hurriedly

As if there is fear to look too deeply,

To stare into the mirror of selves they may see

Too afraid to know that truth they’ve built

Like castles on sand that will wash away

If they only could see.

The coolness moves in slowly yet welcomed

And time itself stands still though speeds by

A minute passes, a spectre of then

And we strive to be here and now in this minute

And not a second more or less

As we sway in the breeze that stirs the leaves

Turning in circles our minds move without us at times

And the season of the witch comes

With clouds that hide the moon above

Flickering candles draw us to gaze

Into the heart that beats steady,

And deep in the lives we lead drifting through the now

Into a midnight dance of seasons.

Photo found on the Internet 

7 thoughts on “Spectral

  1. Pingback: Always Looking | rivrvlogr

  2. Gotta love the season of the witch….and any Donovan for that matter, syrup nights, thick and slow moving😊 living in the jungle, summer mostly year round. Talk soon sweetie, K


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