Spectre - Or, The World Of 'Cannot Be' Poem by Michael Hunter

The intangible past seems to blur the here and now,
making a dangerous gray area - free from the rules of reality.

The 'Cannot-be-changed' world seems to step up boldly
and engulf the future, the world of 'Can-be-changed' becomes
a prisoner to the past.

We fight for air, straining to break the surface of this
netherworld, our spirit lungs bursting with the effort.

The ghosting past swims in thick, and in a flash we are suddenly
deeper than before, in more danger of being vanquished.

There is a 'mind scream' that seeks the magic to send the
'un-real' back into the past where it can be chained once more.

But like a death-breathing spectre, it looks at us with cold, unmerciful eyes,
and it's lips pull back into a feral grin.

Then, bright as a laugh, hope breaks through the swimming vision,
and burns through the laughing ghoul, releasing us to breathe.

We break the surface and for a while, bask in the 'here-and-now' world
that offers suggestions for a future, and gives us rest from the
'world-that-was.'

In these moments, there is tenderness, and even a gentle thought.
In a world controlled by the past, we find a reason to go on.


© 2008 Michael Hunter