Evanescent ghosts
share sad, glass secrets…
Beauty is transient
and eternity is dark.

Born and broken;
yet we laugh—
Celebrating these
sacred, porcelain selves.

Lost in the peculiarities of the crowd,
Searching for identification,
In the warmth of companionship,
In a hug, in the comfort of a smile,
And in the depth of sharing.

But they remain empty,
Suffocated by loneliness,
Shouting within a space
Without transmission.

By such fleeting people,
Lost among so many options,
Passing like Russian roulette,
In search of the perfect alignment,
Nonexistent.

But, in diving into unpredictable moments,
In the whirlwind of scarce and immortal time,
Is perfection found?

No,
Just a temporary relationship,
Built by the strength of company,
Extended by the strength of love,
Often sustained by the constancy of habit
And continued by the convenience of routine.
Yet, beings so diverse in their "selves"
Change, mold, and transform.

Perhaps that is why the constant struggle
For encounters and mismatches
Is so few and fleeting,
Consumed by the fire of passion,
In search of the consistency and coherence
Of the multifaceted and other being.

I tried to write you down,  
to cage your shape in syllables  
and carve your voice into stone—  
but you fell through the spaces between the words,  
your presence an ache I could not name.  

You were the shadow  
cast by light too bright to see,  
the ripple left by a hand  
reaching for water but finding air.  

I am tethered to what is not,  
chasing the echo of an echo,  
a whisper that refuses to rest.  
You linger where thought dissolves,  
where memory curls in on itself,  
a Möbius of longing.  

If I could grasp you,  
trace the edges of your form,  
I would not.  
You are not meant to be held,  
only felt in the hollow  
you carved into my being.  

And when I speak your name,  
it splinters—  
a sound too heavy for breath,  
too light to fall.

I don't want to live forever,
I don't want to be flattered,
I don't want the world to know
that I was here and that I mattered,
I don't want any wealth,
I don't want the baubles that it buys,
I don't care if the sun is setting
or if it's morning on the rise,
I don't crave your fleeting fame
Nor the glory that you chase,
I'll not be trapped in moments,
I'll be set apart, no trace,
I do not seek a peaceful life,
I wish not to be "free,"
I want to be as fathomed
and as forgiving as the sea

Today I will become an ephemeral thing
the mist in the flowers
the feeling in the forest that you are not alone
the ocean’s salt caress
No one can touch me
They do not have the right
My gifts are only for those who seek them
and have the strength to bear their weight

I look at you
A ghost without boundaries
My hands reaching out
To grasp your heart
Nothing there to stop me

I look at you
Ephemeral
And ethereal
I wonder when you’ll see
The way I view you
An abstract concept
Far away
Never to be found
Never to be touched
Yet an object of limerence
An object of love
That is not to be realized

Saudade
Object of obsession
You are nothing more than that
You are much more than that

A ghost without boundaries
Dead yet alive in my mind
Fitting in the puzzle pieces
As I fit the parts of my heart
Last time it fell for you

The moon hums in a new style
Ah, pretty little beauty spot, opens a slice of sky
On the door of tomorrow in the serene shadow of night
Keeping the ears down, alleyways of stars lie down.
The sea too rolls out high waves of rhymes
Only then will the veiled mystic night  
Opens once a kohl-dark, enigmatic eye
On the door of tomorrow deep down the night.