The Ghost Of Love

There is this ghostly mist;
wafting through my mind;
my very soul’s been kissed;
by her thoughts sublime.

Teased by playful laughter;
coming from her above;
the author of hereafter;
founder of all love.

Such thoughts, a mystery;
imprinted upon my mind;
a hollow thought of history;
of what’s been left behind.

A fracture of reality
is all there’s left to see;
memoirs of conviviality
are what is left of me.

Attempts at concentration,
quickly turned to fog;
results in conflagration;
of lifetime turned to smog.

Memories convoluted;
swirling through my mind;
other thoughts, recruited;
reality redefined.

Why this formless Ghost;
swirling from above?
The ever perfect Host;
this formless Ghost of Love.

Monty 4/15/20