Without Us

The echo of a dream still sounds,

I stand alone, the world turns round,

Without us.

There’s no one left

But me, bereft,

Without us.

The sky so blue with height astounding,

Sweet clean air, green grass, surrounding,

Without us.

Silence deafens, no birds in flight,

An emptiness as cold as night,

Without us.

And I’m stood there, quite all alone,

A lonely beauty now my home

Without us.

A hellish dream, to be apart

Amid such glory, there’s no heart

Without us.

Such hollow sight though stunning seen,

Nightmarish, really, sort of scene,

Without us.

I chose life when sound was heard,

Arise, it said, an awesome word,

We’re here. 

The Ghost Of Nothing

The ghost of nothing came to me,

Visited my soul,

Asked me questions I could not answer,

Responses trapped inside a hole

Of unknowing.

 

The ghost of nothing follows close

Chasing all its chances,

Searches me, my fantasies,

All my childish fancies

And hopes.

 

The ghost of nothing breathes my air,

Quenches all my fire,

Seeks to suck all sanctuary

In effort to conspire

Against will.

 

The ghost of nothing steals and flees,

Taking all away

Till emptiness and nothingness

Overtake and stay,

For a while.

 

The ghost of nothing once departed

Leaves a gaping wound

That starts to heal when nothing’s left.

Nothing left but the sound

Of silence.

 

The ghost of nothing hides away

And watches from way back,

Waiting till well fills once more

And plans renewed attack,

With force.

 

The ghost of nothing, once full known

Betrays its battle plans,

Self, protects from aching void

And takes a different stance

Of defiance and faith

And optimism.

 

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