Becoming a Ghost

I feel the wind
blowing through me and around me and into me
like an inexhaustible flame,
burning into my cheeks, my hair, my eyes,
my hands, until there is nothing left
except a smouldering cinder
that is my soul.

I am standing in dream's endless ocean.
I will shout, hurl stones, my heart
into its depths.
When it awakens I will be nothing
except the restlessness of the tide.

I will be
the shovel's edge, the darkness, earth's silence
drowning the beating of your heart.

Close your eyes.
Turn your face away.
Do not look at me
or touch me.
Something is going to happen.
I can feel it.



  1. The repetitions (I, me, my) work so well (and then at the end "your" -- your eyes, your face...). Reality, dream... Sometimes it's hard to say what is real, what I can save -- me, my personality.

    Best wishes,

  2. A purely lyrical poem, sometimes very liberating to write.

  3. Thank you!

    Short link -

  4. This drastically reminds me of many a number of pieces I have written before.....!!! :)

    I know exactly what you mean.

  5. Beautifully articulated piece that captures the imagination. You have artfully developed an uncommon thought into something most magical. I for one am moved by it. More than delightful read Sam.


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