Lonely Ghost’s Cemetry

A lonely ghost who owns the past,
tending her neat and regular garden;
making smooth the errant pathways
of the grounds that she’s interred in.

On this night, a moon of honey bathes her
in a golden bouquet;
The harvest of all the flowers
the sun made love to on this day.

A love freely given and joyously taken;
and given again, for free.
The lion of noon dances with the light of the moon,
in the lonely ghost’s cemetery.

I saw it all from behind a gravestone,
I was hiding from myself.
Escaping the self-righteous who nag me
in the name of mental health.

It’s so enraging they won’t concede
what all the madness is for!
I tell them: I have breathed the air of the gods
and I will do so once more.

I’ve dreaded them all my life and I dream
of the day that they’ll dread me.
They’ll find neither money nor power are any much good
in the lonely ghost’s cemetery.

Where I hide in the letters and numbers,
carved so precisely on polished stone.
So many people in those names and dates;
and then there’s me, here, all alone.

But not alone! There’s the bats and the bugs,
and the trees that hold up the sky.
All of us vibrating to our own frequencies
and enjoying the communal high.

And they offered me Sanctuary, lose myself,
dissolve into the etheric sea.
Life felt so simple that moment
in the lonely ghost’s cemetery.

As a black bird sang from the branches of the morning
while the sunlight trickled through.
She asked “Who do you wait for? Why do you come here?
What do you want to do?”

That round dark eye twinkling
with my upside-down reflection;
Staring out from the soul of this creature enthralled
to pleasure and to passion.

Some stay in the darkness to profit,
some stay to serve those left behind;
In the shadow realm, with no hand on the helm,
you take what you can find.

Some stay, some roam, some sing songs of home,
and some tell stories, just like me.
All of us unravelling in our much loved plots,
here, in the lonely ghost’s cemetery.

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