House Of Ghosts

A road through rose-coloured mountains,
Arisen in moments less smoky, more bright,
Silently stole my bestowment,
Softer a focus in light.

All those times I solemnly demurred
To where this heart by evening burned,
In this heart my beating chest,
In these ribs now laid to rest.

All endless routes impassable,
Assembled stars loom darkly
Stern statues in a hallowed sky;
Beyond countless thorny doors

A final chance before losses advance
To yearn, though little is learned,
Which explains to you why
For those mournful mountains
I endeavour again to return.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s