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Sep. 5th, 2004

I am sitting here in the semi-dark, pushing away the world, pressing farther into that dark place of the soul where I am alone and cold.

I know this place. I am familiar here, a traveler, a high priest of the roadway. Desolate, hidden, strewn with the ruins of the past and the ghosts of memories that lie awake at night.

The ghosts will talk if you let them. They will tell you stories of loves lost, of battles fought, of fatigue and desperation and balance and joy. Tales of pain and woe, of frustration and impotence, of death and destruction. Risk and loss and gain and sustenance.

I like the ghosts. They are like me, lonely and insubstantial, pale wisps in the moonlight that dissolve by the light of day into half-remembered dreams. But at night they have power. Passion, love, and heartache.

And all they want is to be heard. To be noticed. To be taken into the heart and soul of somebody that understands and loves and fits. Somebody to make them real.

The dark time is when the ghosts walk. They whisper in your ear, give you clues to find them if you will just listen.


( 3 comments — Leave a comment )
Sep. 5th, 2004 10:19 pm (UTC)
That is a lovely piece of writing. See, you are an artist!!!

I was visited by a scary ghost in a dream once, who showed me, literally, what their world was like!! I've had more than one visitation by deceased relatives & friends while I was sleeping! One time I was waken up by the ghosts of two people I knew before they passed on!! That kind of frightened me because it was extremely real as I was sleeping. I felt their presence without me through the entire day afterwards.
Sep. 6th, 2004 04:48 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
I was thinking of ghosts more in the allegorical sense, finding the kernels of ideas. Inspiration.

In the dark theme, ghosts made sense because they tend to be insubstatntial and tenuous, which is usually how my ideas are at first. Sometimes they never get beyond that stage. :)

The writing is something a little different. Usually when I write, I polish and rehash and try to find words that fit better to the meter or the meaning. These last couple were pretty much flow from the brain to the keyboard. Different style, different energy. Don't know if I like it as much; I'm too close to it right now to be objective.

I don't get the scary visitations much anymore. Worst one was the ghost of my father, who never seemed to understand that I had to make my own decisions right or wrong.
Sep. 6th, 2004 09:07 pm (UTC)
Re: Thanks. :)
Oooh.. I don't want to get parents' ghosts making me feel guilty!! Yikes!
( 3 comments — Leave a comment )

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