I walk into a room
Full of white and lanky walls
Then another… and another…
And soon the first one felt quite small.
Once I reach what appears to be the final room,
I look inside a mirror
But the ghost looking back at me
Her face– it’s not so clear.
Her eyes are full of memories, of moments from the past.
Then faintly when She goes to speak, comes a silence, oh so vast.
The rest of Her is blurred
As if She’s nothing but a tease.
Her eyes- they tell a story
Can I know more of Her, oh please?
I’m woken from my trance
When the ground beneath me falls.
I sit up gasping in my bed,
Just a dream! A silly dream after all…
Still it continued to haunt me
Not the walls, not the mirror, not the room
But the ghost that told the stories,
I wondered about the things She knew.
One morning by the water,
I called out to Her and alas!
She appeared from behind a veiling rock
And we walked along sands of glass.
I knew it was Her, though Her figure a blur,
For Her eyes were as clear as the day.
I asked Her my questions (She would have my discretion)
& alone with Her eyes She did say:
“Don’t live in the past, can’t you see what it’ll do?
Memories are good, but the memories are through.”
“The ghost that you’ve been searching for,
The ghost you think you knew,
The one that you saw in the mirror,
You must know that ghost is you.”
“Nothing will become clear
Until you learn to walk away.”
So I looked up at the morning sun
& killed her in the light of day.