SPECTRE

 

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.

 

Dartherino

October 2009