Ceremonial

Ceremonial

I could sit here and ponder for days
My unmaking and my addendum
I could sit here
And read my days and nights away
A sunny day swaying into Grey
There is a ghost that haunts
An atheist heart, one that was there long before
I ever caught its gaze
There is a ghost that haunts a desolate man
Wrapped in chains of self-shame and regret
A poet with his head in his hands
Naked and tired, cold in sweat and lost in though
A poet with his words scattered with the wind
Something atrocious like degenerate lore
When romantics end and beginnings anew
Dearly departed lovers rings
And no, no one can run back to the start
When we seek out our makers
When we only find destroyers
When we run away in seeking out the truth
The rain behind our saddened eyes
Because it’s so easy to believe that we were born free
Run away from here, this ceremonial routine
Ambient whispers and distorted echoes
Of all things golden, all things astray
I can see an old church off in the distance
I can see the angels, wallow as they cry
And do as you will and do as you preach
I can see you from here, miles and miles, decades far away
Inside these dreams, inside a prayer
You are all that I see, all that I use to know
An old photo, a ghost inside a dream
A song that I cannot sing, cannot hum along
When looking out at the world I see
A series of sadness, ceremonial dreams
There is a ghost that haunts these nights
A shame filled cry from a lost loves heart
As these days go by
All I can see, all I can dream
Is of better days, and even if I smile as is
There is a ghost that haunts an atheist heart
Of someone I use to know
And I don’t want to point out the irony any more than I have to

-Jon Powder-