Treasure Island

Patti Masterman


Spirits Born Again


The universe must bury old ghosts
In the graves well-shadowed dimensions,
The air rhyming empty-pocket miracles
With every treasure's ever been lost.

Our only grace the stone of presence,
Dead-quiet whispers the eye of storm,
The roof of space sings lost spans of desire,
And naked altars rising hope, seen afar.

The star of wonder sign in the heavens,
Dancing vows and hidden doors of sleep,
Emotions rattling the bones of mystery;
Though life's the question best answered with peace.

We shiver like crosswinds met in chaos,
The blood of an angel ours for a day,
And life courses through, a prayer receding-
To dawning silence: spirit's born again..

Submitted: Saturday, September 21, 2013
Edited: Monday, September 23, 2013

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