A Collection of Ghost Stories and Letters to Loves Gone By... Number 1.

in #hive-1324103 years ago

B&W sunset Maryland 1.jpeg

A Collection of Ghost Stories and Letters to Loves Gone By

I.
---Luna lover mother,
constant companion,

i welcome your company tonight.
Your fullness pours down upon me
promising fecundity,
as i offer libations
to this seeming barren landscape –
nightly teeming with life.

Through you,
i touch another.
as present to me as you are.
As distant and ungraspable.

Through you,
i touch another.
Touch her soft pulsing skin
caress the life-giving roundness of her breasts,
responding
as the ocean
to your gentle beckon.
the seasons of your call.

Through you i gain passage
to the dark caves of worship,
where the walls, wet with time,
absorb spaces profound empty waiting.
where death and life dance together,
calling each other sacred profanities,
disappearing each other in continuous embraces of finality.

How can I make altar to you
if i can not see you?
are you so inconstant in my mind now,
that time should hinder phantasm’s touch.
Ghosts take no heed to time.
Only whimsy and desire.

We, my dear, are a ghost story
the moon whispers to the old and lonely.
The light side whispers of hope,
but the dark and silent knows the consequences of regret.

Do you waste time on regret?
I do now.
The delusion that I am the moon’s only lover
no longer interests me.

I want to hear stories of all her darkly encounters
and whisper mine into the smooth seashells
of her young pink ears,
knowing they will echo for eternity,
lapped by the sea,
dreaming of sailors,
dreaming of arriving
and of leaving.

I dream of both – every night.
I am followed by both
Haunted and taunted by both,
beckoned by both,
and i make promises
as well
to both.

After many cycles,
So many turns of the dizzying wheel
I can no longer differentiate.

Always-
I am arriving
and I am leaving.

These past nights,
i have watched the moon rise,
and i have watched her set,
and i finally understand something.

like the tides, my breath, this life
i am arriving
and i am leaving.
and all i can offer along the way
is an open heart
cradled gently in an open hand.

This is the first in a series Ghost Stories and Letters to Loves Gone By.
Follow me to catch the next installations.

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The people doing V2K with remote neural monitoring want me to believe this lady @battleaxe is an operator. She is involved deeply with her group and @fyrstikken . Her discord is Battleaxe#1003. I cant prove she is the one directly doing the V2K and RNM. Doing it requires more than one person at the least. It cant be done alone. She cant prove she is not one of the ones doing it. I was drugged in my home covertly, it ended badly. They have tried to kill me and are still trying to kill me. I bet nobody does anything at all. Ask @battleaxe to prove it. I bet she wont. They want me to believe the V2K and RNM in me is being broadcast from her location. And what the fuck is "HOMELAND SECURITY" doing about this shit? I think stumbling over their own dicks maybe? Just like they did and are doing with the Havana Syndrome https://ecency.com/fyrstikken/@fairandbalanced/i-am-the-only-motherfucker-on-the-internet-pointing-to-a-direct-source-for-voice-to-skull-electronic-terrorism

An interesting poetic proposal that opens the reader's thoughts to a fantastic world of shadows and lights perfectly described by the author, exemplifying love affairs with ghosts of the past and an endless dance between life and death.
Excellent work, I enjoyed reading it, and also the spicy touch of eroticism in the description of the woman was spectacular. Thanks for sharing it with this community.