Epitaph Of The Ghost

Black coffee in a white cup with withered petals and leaves on its saucer, a lit black candle; surreal paper collage of a faceless person wrapped in colourful cloth who sits on a dark sun that emits blue rays; torn black paper with stars as sky, and red torn paper as the ground.

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Day Of The Dead

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On 2 November we will celebrate the DAY OF THE DEAD💀, thus this little poem.

Epitaph Of The Ghost
I sit above and look down below
It’s all dust and tiny things
Everything’s so blurry
And here I’m cold and scared,
I am looking for my body
Have you seen my body?
I’ve forgotten to return home
And the thread that linked us 
Has suddenly been broken
I sit above and look down below
I hear voices that rear passion,
And suddenly they make me remember
The body I’ve lost along the way
Perhaps it’s waiting for me, my body,
I think of it wrapped in white linen
Incensed and filled of beautiful flowers 
Resting fiercely on a concrete altar
Body in a warm and shiny room
I sit above and look down below 
Suddenly I don’t feel cold anymore 
There’s a warm something embracing me
While all my fears they disappear,
Is it time for me to go elsewhere
As to rest my tired heart and soul
Am I ready to fly away? To become a star
And to fall again on this part of Earth
To be sowed and reaped and moulded again
And recommence there, where I ended.

Published by Eiravel

Hello everyone, and welcome to my personal blog. This is a self-taught adventure in creative writing, craft that I am passionate about; learning writing and all the stuff that concerns this industry while surfing on the waves of the internet, and I aspire to make a living through selling my own books and blogging, because why not. I live on the island of Mauritius with my husband, my two children, and my muse. I am an eclectic person, love the sublime and the strange; I am also interested in all types and forms of art that please my mind.

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