Restless Souls – a poem

Restless souls enamoured of more

Than the form can take, true rest

A deal made by other witless ones

Riding storms sung in dead days

Where the ghosts clamour, beloved

Of wish-granters and lately less.


Solutions for the sorrowful range

Across worlds lacking wisdom far

Formed, the needful spirits stir

At signs where the blood leaks

Into water formerly clean, pristine,

Now dirty like these sentinels.


Cacophony and call, that sound whirs

Like nothing else, hunger rumbles,

The voices of lost memories soon

Remember what they were, once,

The drops so stark, so dark, bright

As the restless souls clamour on high.


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