I am drawn to a well
Of unknown secrets,
Spectres rising in a rush of mist
Drawn from dark places.
Is it worth the trade-off
When one surrenders the details
Of a once significant event
For the ghost of a feeling
That once was, but is no more?
Necessity and the passage of time
Demand such surrender
And I struggle with those details.
When words fail to inform
Where do I turn?
When events fail to unfold
Where do I turn?
When sights have faded to dusk
Where do I turn?
I turn to these pages and I write.
I scan the horizon looking for ghosts
Of past and present
When one appears, I’m off
Regardless of the cost.
I will chase it down
Til I’ve pinned it to my mat
And examined it from every angle.
After all is said and done.
“The game is afoot”
And I am helpless but to follow
Until the prey has been run to ground
And all the meaning shaken from its soul.
Put down upon these pages
And made to reveal that which was hidden.