Literature
The Ghost Lantern
Here I am, my beloved,
walking upon the lush green earth
Surrounded by the weathered stones
Lichen covered, indecipherable mementos as nature takes her toll on them
I look for you, among the memories etched in stone
Hidden among the choking tendrils of weeds
The long grass, yellow and dead waving in the breeze
In the final farewell of the exodus of souls
It sits, farther from the others
An outcast from the far gone, an exile among the dead
The long shadows of the sycamore reach out like the hands of a lost child,
Reaching out for what cannot be found
Grasping, opening and closing in a balled fist of anger
For fear of abandon