Facing The Ghost
Facing The Ghost
The Ghost in the mirror
beckons. Bodiless face,
floating in the clouded glass,
It whispers, "I spy
With my bleary eye -
Stars in the sky,
Going out, popping
off. Planets fly, fires die,
Until this fantastic,
Beyond dramatic,
Post traumatic,
High stressed antic
fizzles out
into the horizon of
This giant black bubble
Of dark faecal ice.
Do you?"
Do I what? Care? all that salvation,
And damnation, (soul starvation?)
All that sweet demolition,
the jiggling, the all-giggling,
particles wriggling,
to arrhythmic half-lives.
The all-dancing, quantum leaping,
Packets of energy,
Blinking on, shutting off,
High jumps and low dives,
In the vast trembling jelly
Of Life - mean a
Thing?
Not to me.
(Big things or
The small, mankind
Loses all. Trust me!)
All I want is the hole
In the wall
To crawl through to
the Other side of
The mirror,
To the side of the Ghost:
For,
This grain of sand,
that minuscule drop,
This little known,
that unknown vast,
Nothing but lost causes,
Just excuses, all.
Only to stall
the final voyage,
To the Other side.
(That is all.)
Well, here I am
Once and for all,
Facing my Ghost,
waiting beyond
The mirror on the wall.