Dia and the light of one thousand ghosts, becoming…

There where once ghosts sunbathing on these shores
Their smoke billowed up, waiting for the second of serenity
Nightfall twilight, seagulls stuttered and recoiled from the vicinity

Over the chromatic fumes Lua creeps
Yet captive on her own single singularity
His widow at the shores still, quietly weeps.

Brooding desultory thoughts for a moment of clarity
Shuddering with cold, entrapped at the earth’s end
Forward and below, a bottomless precipice (she asked?)
The downhill of the creek, where the Wailers did portend

Frayed endured, recomposed as breathing still remained
Everlasting their expectation for a shade of distinct sea’s dew
Arising a vague getaway across the bridge to confabulation
Deep down below, where the foaming mirrors cerulean blue.

Outside where the waves unremittingly collapse
Plundered rocks where liquid rhythms’ bereft
Transitions masqueraded as ripples on the air

Incessantly moaning for wishes of skies of clear blue
To reflect the pupils of the bounded sea watchers
Charting ephemeral points in simple lazuline hue

They echoed at the mainstreams with common voice
“Our gigantic puddle is headed to eminent overflow,
The yellow feverish bulb indolently convoked our brothers
And to the circle’s immutable dawn they have been shown”

The Wailers veil lifted by the relinquishment of the oceanid maiden
Bones subsiding, swaying into the patched bricks of the spectral creek
Drawn by light, and into light over the path to the energy driven transition
Together looming higher than the screams the Wailers dared to speak

Leaving behind, the wanton’s whistles in sordid smear
“Scourge of thy sea”, sirens across the waves so near
“Bow now and beguile the oceans, for distillation

Into nothing, ram the frontier of water with starlight
Blemish those silken eyelashes with vapours inhaled
Never to watch again!” Flooded and sundered to invite

Pouring an upward drizzle of fainted yet superb threnodies
Only I discerned their contours, lining them with an angel’s quill
Standing at the declivity, as a widower bidding another gentle farewell
Lucid not, but over, on a contrived unexpected pose as to conceal

The consuming somniloquist necessity, indulgence via absence
Forsaken to the screams where once internal inhabitants untrod
Now in astral positions… on the posthumous space of endless time
Somewhere avow… the one blessed with a forgetful mind is god

Disregard the clichéd search party for the contrited sweetheart
Lost here? Never mind, it’s missing among posseted pearls torn apart
In an idyllic garden, yield from the deepest substratums of the sea

Sonnets, at the place where tears come for redemption
Vaporizing in wishes of transient fumes evened at the seams
Someday, somewhere, for sure they will be other’s dreams

Or voices, as the Wailers studded portrait was my own
Taken, like drawings, by water at the beach berm’s face
Doused thoroughly, replaced lightly with contoured chalk
(My own), memoirs vignetted at the ocean’s hospitable waist.

Sun warmth invited for a chalice’s sip at Enochia’s palace
A welcoming lay for those that touched the sky’ outskirts
Starry then, now even starrier with the empyreal coterie
Companionship of gone idols, the dælight ghost rebirths

Traversed beyond wraithlike smog or rust lit bones
At the place of grace where the divine allure intones:
“Haze above the water, water above the ornamented mind“

Inhale those fumes, their vapors are their last wishes
As my wishes on lungs of ether wings, glowing beside Rigel
Still believing with utter care on the ensuing angel*

(do you know? Would you know? Could you understand?)
…our place is by the firmament *…
(their wishes, her wishes, my wishes, our hand)


N. Ego
by joel nachio