To a Ghost Most Familiar

“To a Ghost Most Familiar.”

The same haunting that I have long known:
I don’t want to be left alone.
Through these dark halls, I hear the echo
Of your rattling chains.
And I feel the haunting shadow
With the blood in my veins.

I fear this presence, but there is no other…
And in the roar of the silent thunder
That cracks the bells of his return
My only fright, my only concern
Is that he will not haunt me—
That he will cease to haunt me
With my dreaming promises of eternity.

I fear this ghost will desert me
And that he no longer can hurt me.
Alas! to be without pain…there is no other…
Though wretched is he who comes to His supper
Of flesh—there is no greater delight
Than to be in the torment of the twilight.
Ah! The bells! The bells that mark His advance:
The companionship of His absence.
I hesitate to run into His dominion,
To the familiarity of the companion.
A form that, like the moon which spawned it, is wan
But when I reach for Him, He is gone.
Leaving only the chime of the bells.
Leaving only the chime of the bells.
Gone. Gone. Gone.
Gone. Gone. Gone.

© 2022 Marten Hoyle