My Ghost

My ghost of Ether mist caresses my head, gently luring me to believe in me and her. Hollow clouds of cotton candy shape, pierce me as she embraces me and kisses me. I ask myself is she real, is she here, we engaged in a dance of souls birthing passion and pure joy.

And I want to build her an altar and worship her and please her as a devoted slave. I prepare the temple to encase her love and breathe her sweet scent of bliss as I kneel to seek her affections; she refuses my worship, my devotion or love. She evaporates and I wonder if she was even real. Was it a dream was she a ghost? Memories fade and other ghost will appear. One thing I will always remember is her smile of one of a thousand smiles bestowed upon me, the supernatural violence of love.

Jalama

She is a flower of the ocean.

Floating in cascades of white foam, the wounded star was left to die. Oxygen starved and desperate to live she sailed into the deep blue sea.

Four stars guided her sailing from the darken heavens, winds picked up her sails and delivered her to familiar shores. Her broken spirit on the mend she exhaled her past. She is a rare magical creature of the ocean, her scent is pure, her petals are fragile, but her resolve is a blaze.

She inhales the breeze of life, floating and making peace with her past as she builds a new life in love an place she calls her home.

Deep Sadness of love

Waves, unrelenting waves of feelings of abandonment hit me in the center of my being with no reprieve. No rhyme or reason for the sadness to set in, the heart mourns the loss of innocence.

How does deep sadness feel? Tell me how It feels- a well intention soul asked me to describe it.

I proceed by stating; Do you ask a drowning victim how it felt to die?

Imagine the desperation of one grasping for air and knowing full well that the next breath will only fill you with more desperation, terror, and death, yes that is how deep horrific deep sadness feels.

Living in the cusp of insanity feeling like all is lost and no amount of positive self-talk can return you back to normal, no number of assurances from friends and family can heal the oozing wound that stopped healing back when innocence was lost.

Wounded soul beaten repeatedly by the hatred of this world and the selfish acts of man.

inconsolable warrior, weary of life scrimmages ; hope robbed by the lost of innocence.

Life is not what it seems, shifting shadows of truth and falsehoods.

Life and deep sadness need to be released with sobbing tears and wretched screams to be free, to be free for the moment. Cursed is the time when my innocence was lost and life was marked with unrelenting sadness and pain.