We all see ghosts—at least do I.
They hang, sometimes, inside the mind
the vision spots: fractured slits
of broke morality
They linger in the memory
and sometimes make their presence known
to tempt or tease or taunt.
They are because we put them there
and loved them—once—from deep inside
and gave too much of vital life
for them to disappear.
Banished lovers, wandering
but living still inside our town
and showing up just when and where
they’ve found a place to haunt.
And sometimes (only with our choice)
they live more real…like long before
and carry captive every thought
to their obedience.
Fed on dread the ghosts now dead
lurch to life inside our lusts
and prove to strong for us to fight
and seek to throne their vaunt.
Come Great King, renew Your claim
O’er all your wretched wrong-ful realm.
Break through walls indifferent
in sunshine on our souls.
We love, we falter, still will pine
to love as He who wavers not
but wars to cleanse the dearth and rot
and Lord our hearts to holy want.
Photo by Ray Bilcliff, pexels.com