Rochester Paranormal

Between here and somewhere I find myself.
Traveling within a stream of consciousness.
Where destiny is enshrouded by doubt.
While reality itself is likewise cloaked.
So black within is both womb and grave.
I float now ever further beyond the pale.
Seeking that which lights our journeys end.
While darkness surrounds us ever still.

I walked my dog out in our lot amidst the barren trees and leaves all blown about.

Enjoying each year as I do the extended view through forest once thick with branches full of lush greenery now stripped of canopy laid bare.

Then something else came about which laced the air of its fall scent.

A strong fragrance of flowers in bloom from an earlier time where such growths were now all dead.

Perhaps a box of fragrant sheets left tumbling in some neighbor’s dryer.

Or something far more fragrant still perhaps some woman’s perfume spilled.

But then my mind did take me back upon a little known public fact.

That noxious chemicals and toxic fumes can all be induced with fragrance and smell of perfume.

Where then such foul and deadly waste once mixed with fragrance and released.

Will tempt each soul within its wake into far deeper breathing with memories of Spring.

Instead of what now may bring an end of things.

But who can say nor who can know of such things swept within the wind.

Carried perhaps by stone cold wings that better known as death.  - By Poet Archaeus

I look beyond the veil peering ever deeper within the pale,

Leaving long behind my mortal shell basking deeply within an etheric expanse,

Long view in all direction exist no shore in such expanse on subconscious seas,

Yet I intermingle amidst a chaotic mass of ever churning sentient souls,

Ghosts and wraiths of their once former selves in life,

With each one instilled the holy remnant, a flame, of their former selves,

Where each in reach of another maintain memory and hope of an afterlife.

Whenever down by waters edge there be this calling from the deep.

A feeling which grabs hold of thee to make your way across the sand.

In wading ever deeper till the siren takes your hand.

As then in time your soul grows weary.

Further out from shore your ferried.

Upon the lifting back of cresting currents.

Who assist the maidens of the waves.

In claiming yet another soul.

Now at rest so deep within the waters.

To later wander upon the shore.

Within the leaves of a forest tree.
How can the face of a man appear where none should be.
Perhaps illusion by sun light upon the leaves.
Maybe we’ll call it Matrixing so no further explaining be needed.
Or could it be that souls once free find solace amidst within the trees.
Where natures fauna at most silent may indeed be most aware.

Who amongst the living know of all the daytime active throes which much like their night counterparts do likewise wander to and fro.