Drifting by my window pane,
On a cold dark winters eve.
No sign or trace, no echo or sound,
No path to follow or deceive.

A silent spectre, ethereal form,
A hazy memory, from life, 'twas torn.
Jealously wanting what now it resents,
An anger no mortal can perceive or prevent.

A pulsating obsession of hate and desire,
Feeding the flames and stoking the fire.
Trying to cross over the bridge to our plane,
Resolute and relentless, a moth to a flame.

Pushing and pushing with all of it's might,
Glimmered eyes ignoring the light.
With a cry of despair it gives up the fight,
Slowly moves on into the deep, dark night.

DPS October 2009


◄ The Jester

For Absent Friends ►


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