Ariadne's Thread

ghosts are we, as we to for, all account

by that which seems, seems so much, as something more

as much as life or love could ever find

behind the truth, behind the lies

in my eyes i hold you near, wanting to see

all you have, in front of me, and in behind

the soul of youth, the soul of life

hiding, laughing, breaking chaos into steams

around the rivers and lakes, pools dancing, shimmering bright

underneath this pale moonlight, my life lets

the water trickle down, to taste and touch

a quiet drop, of your soul, that i hold, as ghosts we plea

from silent steps to full fledged agony

the pain we take and take at last, removes the world

of life we cast, in reflection of these waters still

a reflection of ourselves, in imagination fields

where to ghosts we walk, where to ghosts we feel

and feel so more as to always change our lives

to bring us fruit, to change the bitterness of the night

for where in truth, does truth truly ever feel

not to comprehend, in soul, in one's own, life's wonder

wrapped in this ordeal, i am ghost, as ghost to find

an aparation floating from the skies

is the shiver down the spine at night

and the soul at dawn