What is it
that rises
to the subconscious..
a call, a whisper, my name
as I was then, not now…

eons ago..

Souls live on
or so it is said
while bodies wither away
like so much dust,
taking with them
all that was.

But how can that be..

for there are memories etched
in my very bones,
as surely as they are sewn
into my soul,

that ache…

that ache with a wild tempest,
a mad riot of longing,

that cry out to me..

deep within those odd moments
of pulsing vulnerability,

remember, remember…


2 thoughts on “Haunting.

  1. Delicate, yet daring. Something dark and yearning compels us, calls from within that there is a need for more…but for what? Mystery. Magic. A touch of danger. Beauty and immensity. Stillness.

    Lovely poem, my sweet. Lovely.


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