Ghosts

I can always hear their howling
Lamentations, premonitions
–Warnings, mostly

I wonder, will I ever be rid of them
These ghosts that haunt the barren ground
I leave behind in the imprints of my steps?
Will they weather with time,
Or will they outlast me?

Am I doomed to carry them with me?
Are they determined to give chase?
Can I outrun them, or will I falter
Tumbling to the cold and hollow tomb
Where they prepare my bed?

Am I truly an insect trapped in amber
Encased in these moments in time?
Or can I break free against all odds?

In dreams they haunt me
The opalescent, green gems
Like Absinthe
Like God’s good word
Which was never spoken

May they greet me
At the end of all things
In truth:
It is my secret fear to be free of them

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