This poem came to me spontaneously late at night, while I was huddled under every blanket I own. The house was chilly, and snow was falling lightly outside. Yet, I did not feel lonely at all. I only felt comfort, as if there was another presence in the room with me. That’s when I began writing.
an arduous presence.
Awoken from my restless slumber,
squinting at the hazy blur.
There stood an illumination
a distant roaming soul.
Dressed in clothes like the boy I once knew
who now lives at the bottom of the river
weary and weak.
The fragile body stood in front of me
was wrapped in layers of sheets
dripping with the water from the river
arms bound tight around its half-empty vessel.
The phantom pours out
The voice familiar and dear.
I emerge from the surface
and cling to it with all my might.
Weary and weak myself,
I separate from my vessel.
Regaining strength from his cradle.
The ectoplasm invited me to dance,
pulling me away from my shivering stance.
Away withered my worries, in the arms of the boy I once knew,
A familiarity I had painfully missed all these years.
We spun in circles,
as I looked deep into his obsidian eyes.
A roaming lost soul in my room
taking me away from the night’s awful gloom
The boy I once loved, who was once so distant
Although now invisible, is still existent.