this is a true story about a spirit or spirits
he
or maybe she
or possibly both
or possibly more
let me know from time to time
that he, she or they are still here
I have heard many voices and seen many things
since I began recording them
it's as if I am sitting at the doorway to a meeting room
a meeting room of spirits
and this meeting room is in my home
I have filmed them...streams of orbs moving briskly
like a crowd at a rock concert hurrying to their seats
before the first song
one...a young male
I believe his name is Arthur
called my name as he passed over my head during a spirit box session
'Thomas'
he apparently was not happy being caught on camera
because within seconds of sending a copy of the video to a friend
a can of Lysol was thrown from underneath my bathroom sink against the wall
and my spirit box no longer functioned
this was 3 years ago
and they still let me know they are here
from time to time
in their various ways
I consider them my friends
I have yet to be harmed or frightened
I just think I noticed them
and they noticed that I noticed them

(last line borrowed from 'The Mothman Prophecies')

in the atmosphere
stratosphere
darkness that we do not fear
we find ourselves alone

where is it
that we visit
at night
this seamless ride on a stringless kite
our universe an endless flight
where time does not apply

we hit the bed and jolt awake
remember not our timeless break
a thousand years on a single snowflake
a blink in the cosmic realm

There are few absolutes.
Even less that speak as true,
To the golden hues of bygone ages
Or savage whirlpools of our youth.
We were born and we shall die
Shackled to these certainties
Eternal pirouettes of life.
Yet in the doubt we are alive,
A parable of the possible,
The probable or the just might.
Existence in the absence
Between two points of light.
In the uncertain we survive,
A ripple in the darkness,
A dream within the night.