The twilight sun busied itself
Painting the receding sky warmly
It was hard to tell which was which
I groped my way out of the woods
Scared and dispirited
Deep in thoughts; another kind of a grove
More difficult to deal with than the other
How do I unbury a ghost with still
Beating heart?
The warm colour of that eventide
Had caught me harvesting her organs
"It will make you rich"
Baba told me.
Now I wonder how modestly I was raised
But how unspeakably I have sinned
My soul is haunted
By her ghost
And more by my crimes.
A dusk of hooting owls
Being swallowed whole before me
Nothing made sense to me anymore
Her dismembered remains
Lay idly in a pit I dug
Enriching the soil of the forest
But here wanders her spirit
Terrorizing me and breathing woes
Her severed sacred parts
Stashed in a safe house
Ready to spit crispy mints
So I could buy that Lamborghini.
Her soul wanders and so do I now
The difference is that it is typical
Of spirits to wander.
I am alive but lost
Far from home - comfort
A fugitive of my sins
How can I escape the manacles
Of my own guilt?
I am lost.
Image: pixabay
@harrywill