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November 22, 2014



When shadows creep

under moonlight’s beam;

no swans apparent

on the stream.


The water still,

at dead of night,

as forgotten souls

exert their right,


and dance along

the grassy bank;

half crazed when on

some ghoulish prank.


Performing handstands,

and back somersaults:

Rejoicing in escape,

from ancient vaults.


And in wild abandon,

floating through the air;

bewitched and spooked

by starlight’s glare.


Until, exhausted,

they fade from sight,

as fast as they came,

back into the night.


For when order left

and chaos came,

one last wish granted,

and life, never the same.


For in death, as in life

the soul never rests;

appearing out of the blue,

like uninvited guests,


who will return;

they always do.

Their purpose being,

to get a glimpse of you.


So when shadows creep

under moonlight’s beam,

and no swans apparent

on the stream,


do not back off

or turn away;

see them as mortals,

who found another way.


Face them, head on.

Look them in the eye.

Do not cower away,

or let them think you shy.


Say ‘Hello my friend,

I once knew you well’.

And I promise you this:

They will run like hell,


when their cover blown,

and you are seeing,

one who thought them self

an invisible being!


For when order left

and chaos came,

one last wish granted,

but with no time frame.





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