As you lie there alone in your darkest place, tired but not yet sleeping, the images that my words evoke come to you as though From a dream.. So real.. Yet distant.. Faint echoes offering rapture, but delivering emptiness.. though You may search for me with reckless abandon, and shun all earthly lovers for the promise of a single touch, you reach for me but I am not there. For I am only words in your mind, there for your comfort and guidance, and reach though you may, you will not find me.. For I am but a Ghost of a Whisper…

There once was born, a spirit so free,

That it searched for a place, it was longing to be.

It flew to a place, of streams and green fields,

But against all its hopes, nothing felt real.

Shattered and sad, it flew up in the sky,

And searched the world over, both far and wide.

It stopped on a mountain, with towering green tree’s,

But still not the place, it was longing to be.

It ascended to air, and away it flew,

Now burdened by doubt, it knew not what to do.

Once tired and weary, it fell to the earth,

Then it looked up to see, the place of its birth.

When it rose up it saw, the beauty around,

More mountains and meadows, and blue waters abound.

Now it looked to its heart, And then it did see,

That to find your true peace, homes the best place to be..

Shine down on you, with the best of all faith,

Be Condemn not to hells, cold dark embrace.

For you are forthcoming, about your questionable past,

Of the days lived for peril, and the nights lived too fast.

You chased away sorrow and pain, the alcohol flowed free,

And pushed away loved ones, whose pain you could not see.

But life in an instant, can change for the worst,

When you wake up alone, and for life You’ve no thirst.

Then one day you are sober, when you look in the mirror,

You see a strangers eyes staring, and odd voices you hear.

Your youth you have wasted, and now you are old,

And your life now is missing, and the world has grown cold.

Come inside this bleeding heart,

And see what I feel, and feel what I see.

And know that your empty words do not wound me,

Nor your cold angry stares, give unto me self doubt.

Though your hand, May strike out at me,

With a cold as steel clenched fist, seething with anger,

Within it burning your sinful, ignorant Pride,

When you strike out at me, I will not be there,

You will only hear me laughing at your angry confusion,

As I watch you flailing at air.

Foolish man, you can not size me up,

Nor frighten me as a child, with your foolish taunts.

You cannot offend me,

Nor curse out loud at my good name,

Nor may you judge me,

Nor hold my person in bitter contempt.

For you have the body of a man,

But see the world through the eyes of an angry child.

You think me your enemy, but fail to see,

That your true enemy lie’s within you,

Locked inside all of your anger.