The espiridion is existant in the bright of the dawn
The achak meanderer's wear clarion tunic's
Whilst their lips art muted
To afterlife song's...
Their hair unseen
Though floweth long,
They cometh in thy dream's
Sometimes in scream's,
Sometimes to the good...
Their lost,
Misunderstood
No cost
Couldst giveth them new good's....
Sometimes their Ahriman
Disguised as good warrior's,
Though the arcangel Gabriel
Lends his sword to the spiritual border's...
Tyrents come steadily
As ready the ghost's art,
Though much protection surrounds me
When I'm alive...
And when this baggage depart's....


©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry