Transient

This spirit speaks to me

in a hushed, urgent voice.

It blends in my mind

a perfect harmony

to my waking life.

This graveyard,

I am walking through

in daylight

writing my epitaph

with my own hand.

This specter whispers my lines

like I am a forgetful understudy

to this drama I am living. 

This spirit deep and restless

moans urgency

speaks of desire

wanting always more,

finding no rest.

I lay down atop

this grass.

The gravestone

hovers over me,

the stars blinking overhead,

they're already gone

I'm already gone.

Reviews

[Creepy Swine Guy]

Because I asked about this, I know how you intended it. What I get though, is something almost foreboding. As I mentioned, I read the graveyard to be a metaphor for our current lives. Reading it as I do overwhelms me ... introduces me more intimately with my own mortality.

[Kristina Moulaison]

As if we need more introducing, right?! :) But thank you as that was my intention I suppose.

[sithlordjp]

hm, who is the spirit here.... outside of the narrator, the narrator's voice, or maybe the reader. Very good writing!

[Kristina Moulaison]

I suppose it's my dead self speaking to my living self, echoing back at me, to not waste this. Looking up at the stars that are already dead and gone as, in the scheme of things, I am soon to be. We have so little time here.

[Kristina Moulaison]

thanks btw! :)

[sithlordjp]

We have so little time here... let's make the most of it. :)

[Dream Weaver]

This speaks to me as a ambivalent mortality, flirting with the other side
of the unknown and what could possibly be. Nice done Misty.

[Kristina Moulaison]

Thank you! I appreciate you reading and leaving your thoughts! I appreciate your perspective on this. Interesting!

[Dream Weaver]

My pleasure, exceptional writing I must say...