Phantom of Remains

When the past comes to hunt us, such a relenting vexation.

Phantom of Remains

The light we lost fades into oblivion.

Slips beyond reach, swallowed by

A wasteland of abandoned hope.

Lies unburied, in silence, are louder

than grief: should we not have known this?

By now? In twilight’s enigma in murky waters, flows from here to there; father from God. With a hidden conflict, smoldering in obsession blooms like a dark rose, a catacomb of the unsealed burrows.

Its thorns are scraping the marrow of being in retaliation for the ghost of the past.

Their voices were jagged and cruel as a traitor. Gnawing at the corners of the mind, rising from fissures, a fractured earth-crumbling soil of unsealed flesh,

Clawing at the marrow-weary bones;

Lies of ashes and dust rotten in the iron grip of time, unmoved and anchored in their abyss. With a secret older than the hollow winds. Lost our form and dissolved; we descend as a remnant of ourselves into the cracks of a dying world chasm, only to be a phantom of remains.

Author's Note

The phantom of what remains.

Reviews

[Clif]

I like your style. As Karma can come back to haunt us.