If and when you become a ghost, will you pine for me as I did for you in this life? Will you haunt the shadows just wanting to be seen again? Will the shivers down my spine be your tender fingertips? Will you tell me you're still here? If and when you're an invisible phantom will your presence still linger in the four chambers of my heart? Will you dance under the moonlight, spinning tree limbs in the park?
If you're destined to be a whispering vision that is only felt by my third eye, will you tell me that it's you or will you just pass me by? When I'm floating in a dream and your eyes are fixed on mine, will you crawl under the covers and simply pass the time? You've haunted me my life entire and barely eluded my grasp. You're a picture frame without a photo or a face without a name. You're not a bank from which I withdraw, nor a vault where I deposit my intimate secrets. You've eluded me because whenever I get close I notice my breathing and catch my breath while my heart's beating.
I'm a light fixture caught up tangled up in the branches, a flickering filament with no desire to burn away the leaves. I'm a teapot seeking water, but my chamomile is sufficient. Flowers and aged root have served their time in the soil and now await the scolding, purifying liquid. Hot water doesn't burn me, it mixes and melts to make the perfect engine.
I'm a faraway land with no one beside me and I'm an inner peace that is hiding inside me. I'm a bat among squirrels that fly by me. I may not be sighted but my sonar will guide me. The gifts I've been given will not ferment inside me. I mustn't try and hide the gifts that You provide me. I'm a whisper in the breeze and a blade of grass in the meadow. Soon to the fire or perhaps in the storehouse you'll find me. Until then, I'm translucent stained glass painted with pictures of Paradise.
Tell me who I Am once was.