Spectres

My mind's eye
Becomes a silent hallway,
Flickering and dark.
Transparencies cross my path.

This way is hollow
And the silent parades do not last,
So I go a little further.
I drift to the stairs.

The passage leads up
As a blank facade stares down.
I pass through this spirit,
I pass through myself.

Such is the gate to the vacant room.

And there it is only myself
Traveling the circumference
Of that space, that void.

With spiral after spiral, I come to the point.
Arriving at my empty chair,
Then I take a seat and watch
The theater of mirrors.

In reflective vision I see my own cast
And behind me, I observe
The assembly of the dead.

My own hand reaches to me
From the glass surface,
And provides a withered rose.

I take in the scentless offering
And fade away to slumber.
In darkness and in light,
I dream of the outside,
Where there are living shadows
Walking in the streets.

3-24-10