by John Smallshaw

I start giggling, I smile
And think of the days in a mile
Or the years in a yard.
And if I think very hard
I can see the past in it's Glory
I can see the end of the story.
I can see the gathering of shrouds
In those gleaming white clouds
And the hosts which are ghosts
Which beckon me to come.
I see the death of the sun
I watch my world as it cries.
Then the hosting ghost flies
Into the arms of the Moon
Calling to me, to follow him soon.
But the clouds open up
As I drink of the cup
Of will and good cheer
And there is nothing to fear.
Those I hold dear
Are holding me back.
I go on the attack
And I jump out out of the cloud
Then as I fall I scream loud
But the scream disappears.
Along with my fears
And I wake up to find
I am back with my kind.
Those who live
Those who breathe
Those of my friends I don't want to leave.
So I'm safe once again until the lingering pain
Visits once more.

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