Lydia Halena Basham
Hauntings Of My Soul
This body is but a tomb in which the spirit is captive,
A temple for false worship and vanity:
The flesh reeks with the scent of sin;
Caressed by passions of lust.
If flows with rain of reddened tears;
Which stains of violent touch.
The eyes are the doorway-
The key has locked and lost.
These are the hauntings of my soul,