But we love dark things
From afar.
They seem beautiful
And Mysterious,
Noctivagant.
But not until it gets us.
Moving in shadows,
Devouring our light.
A wraith in waiting
With Opaline eyes.
And in the dark that veils us,
We yearn once more
To be there in the distant,
Just Watching
With the moonlight.
But as we walk in silence,
Like a ghost in prayer,
We learn that
Freedom comes
In different enigmatic ways.
Freedom is acceptance
That some things
Are just numinous dream,
We cannot dare to claim.
They are meant to be elusive.
Freedom is forgiveness
Even without an apology.
For it is a waste of time
To wait for something
That may never come.
Freedom is parading
That long white dress
You did not wear,
For some shameful reasons
You no longer care.
Freedom is wearing
Your silver shoes
Meant for the altar.
But now you're walking it
In the pavements of your street.
Like vellichor and withered pages,
Yellowed book from ash and age,
You yearn and learn all the same.
And slowly as your heart breaths
You kiss your grief goodbye.