The Lost


Why must the lucid be so elusive

And why what I see so foreign to me

A wished for picture, childish fixture

Hoped reality, just a fantasy


Why am I just mist, my fight to exist

And why does this ghost still scare me the most

A life in gray viewed with form unimbued

Shaded spectral host with nothing to boast


Why do I have dreams and hell in between

And why does that fire leave ashes of ire

A hope risen smoke, the wishful left broke

Needed for the pyre, my wanting expire


Why does life pretend, goodness in the end

And why learn to smile just a little while

A mind with soul pains and nothing explains

Haunted by the trial, lost in denial


5 Responses to “The Lost”
  1. Dark and sombre, powerful in imagery, a real soul search as artistically as it can be done. You are a master of the craft (very important for writers) and an artist my friend!

  2. beth says:

    so melancholy and beautiful. and the game of life is not over yet, more to come.

  3. kristianw84 says:

    Hauntingly beautiful!

  4. petespringerauthor says:

    This is one of my favorite pieces in some time. You nailed it right from the start. “Why must the lucid be so elusive?” The “what ifs” of life always give us pause.

  5. Great questions so poetically posed!

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