Thick green smog drifts from the mausoleum, Spreading slow across the graveyard floor. Hollowed ground littered with torn flesh, A grotesque reminder of the wars I wore before. The vapor gathers where the moonlight settles, Pulling itself together without a sound. A smoky silhouette in half lotus, Rooted where the oldest ghosts are found. Sitting through the stench instead of running, Letting every rotten layer breathe. The full moon fills the empty vessel, While forgotten versions gather underneath. Shadow work peeling back another layer, A ghost inside the smoke looks back at me. Not some stranger wandering through the darkness, Just another shape I never let myself see. The shadows laugh from every corner, Mocking every mask I used to wear. Hiding from the person I abandoned, Only made him wait for me right there. Doing the best I can with broken blueprints, Never certain where the current flows. Too blind to read my own reflection, Till the silence finally lets it show. Depression loops just like a broken record, Zombifying every passing day. Dragging bones across forgotten pathways, Trying to pull the living heart away. So I close my eyes and lock the mudra, Guide the current softly down my spine. Green begins dissolving into stillness, Smoke becoming flesh one breath at a time. The silhouette no longer needs the moonlight, The outline doesn't drift or disappear. Every meditation leaves another layer, Till the ghost and I are standing here. No demons left demanding my attention, No wars left raging in my chest. Just the smell of earth beneath the full moon, Stillness in the breath... And everything else can rest.
0/500