***

beyond sight

never entering

beyond the

curtains of lashes

hidden

under piles

of shiny rocks

and scultped stones

never seen

never will be

***

listen for music

a discordant melody

that refuses to arrive

and scatter the

daffodil petals

you dipped your

toes in the

frigid water

and drowned

in the

silence

***

reach your hands out

try to grasp

what rests among

the comets and stars

again and again

your palms are

empty

while the

nothingness

drifts away

like dust

from an abandoned

corner

like thoughts

that remained

endlessly

muted

***

He is a ghost.

No one sees him. When he speaks, they do not hear him. He puts his arm around the crying girl sitting on the park bench but she continues to cry, unaware of his presence, mind focused on her troubles. He helps the elderly man across the road, but he does not thank him; his eyes are lowered. He smiles at the stranger with the bright face, and she walks through him. No one sees him.

He is a ghost.

INDIANS, BLACKS, MEXICANS, and All the Mixed Americans born. Let’s just say all the dark skin people from dark chocolate, to caramel, to coco, to hazel nut, to sandy brown, to vanilla, to lite lite but still brown. Could pass for Vanilla Frosting but some chocolate got on the plate. Well, it pretty much doesn’t matter if you got one or two drops you will still be INVISABLE to the necked eye. There has been decades and decades of fighting for change. To those who care BLM. If we didn’t have all this hatred passed down to us. Life would be pretty amazing. But you have some vanilla waffers passing the torch of hate in the ears of their kins. The INAUDIBLE sounds of the DEAD and the LIVING howls at the wind for social INJUSTICES. In a World that was already rich with color before CLASS came in, and decided that if you don’t fit in with what is normal, than you don’t exits by the rules that Stands for Freedom but yet people still burn the FLAG. If you SPEAKOUT about colorisms and change your image will be SLAUGHTERED and HUNG in the name of a REVOLUTION frosted over in high places were SECRET SOCIETIES and MONIES match. When will somebody really take a stand and fight for the changes for our children’s sake to not live in FEAR because of the color of their skin doesn't control the light. When will love and peace take over for the humam race? When we start looking through the eyes of a child fully. They see no color. All they see are there friends.

i am trapped in this world,

a ghost that roams these halls.

untouchable, unseeable, inaudible.

not seen, not heard, not felt.

i did not die. i am still alive,

yet i am a ghost.

i breathe, yet my breaths don't matter.

i scream, yet my voice is

nothing more than a tree

falling in an empty forest.

nothing. no one. nobody.

i am a ghost.

and oh how i long to be free

free from the prison of my own mind.

The letters that sit side by side in a neat row that when strung together with spaces and ending with dots, all form different sounds with each talking tongue and makes sounds too personal to hear. What reads to you may not read to me. What describes joy to you many not bring a ligher calm and a smile from me. It's in the quiet mind where letters sitting side by side in a neat row will form the message you need to hear. Careful you don't switch the letters around and create an ending that really isn't yours.

Invisible, Inaudible, Intangible. It could only be one thing.

Have you ever noticed the innocent brush of the air? Or a whisper, a shout that seems so close but never is? Or your favorite book lying in a remote corner of the house without any explanation? The creaking open of a door or its slam shut that shakes the whole house but you think, oh, it’s probably the wind.

Its not.

There are things we don’t know of, things we can’t see, can’t touch nor hear. There are shadows burning in the dark, watching over us as we sleep, enraged at the thought of us inhabiting this world when they thought their rule would be infinite.

But some are calm and wise. I like to think that they are wells of knowledge. They tend to their clans and their families and pertain to the phrase: out of sight, out of mind.

I wonder, if we are so eager to know more about beings that are invisible, inaudible and intangible, just imagine the depths of their curiosity. They had no clue about us before our world and our time began. And now they observe us silently from the dark.

Strange, am I right?

In the depths of my soul

Reaching, grasping

But I will never know

If it's true

I can feel you

I assume

Let it not be my imagination

A flash

White and smoky

Circling around the corner

A sense of peace

I see you

I assume

Let it not be my imagination

A whisper

Sweet assurance

Just as I am falling asleep

I smile to myself

I hear you

I assume

Let it not be my imagination

Spirit

An idea.

Such an abstract thing.

What exactly is an idea, and why is it a thing?

I have ideas and hopefully you do to.

But do we really fully understand what it is?

Do either of us fully realize that almost EVERYTHING we do is an idea?

We love, hate, despair, rule.

What does it really mean to do any of those things?

Everyone has a different explanation for what it means to love someone or rule a country.

No one can explain what it is to hate in the same way as the person next to them could.

Because it is all just an idea.

An invisible, inaudible, intangible, ABSTRACT thing.

And we each have a different idea of what an idea is.

So let's just leave it as that.

Don't try too hard to understand the idea of an idea or you will start to go in circles.

An idea is just...

An idea.

She was Nothing.

And Nowhere.

With just enough awareness to be terrified.

This was the inbetween.

Between one breath and the next. One beat of a racing heart to another. That halting nothingness that hangs between each one.

She had no body to move. No mouth to scream.

The darkness surrounded her.

Swallowed her.

Drowned her.

Became her.

This was not the heaven she had always been promised. It wasn’t even Hell. This was somewhere different entirely.

It was a twisting sea of night. Of shadow. An unrelenting and unceasing darkness. It had no ending and no beginning. It was eternity. A deep unbroken void that seethed with an ancient power. A dark energy. The likes of which no one had ever felt. Ever fathomed.

Yet here she remained.

It's always been said history will repeat itself sometime after it’s first born and created. History only runs in a circle of pain, hurt, laughter, and love. It dips and turns, runs and walks, grows and shrinks, just like a river, always changing, always moving. Trickles flow into streams, streams into rivers, rivers into bays, bays into oceans, and that ocean swirls and dances but eventually that ocean will have to be sent back to the sky and history will repeat. That's why history should not be lost to time, because when that time comes, the time for history to repeat itself, we can make the right choices to lead into a better future, or should I say, the past.

...

Queen Ariana looked out the window towards the battlefields where swirling dark magic floated above the heads of her men. The men she loved and would do anything to protect, but this time she was helpless. Then she looked back at her bed where a young child was sleeping peacefully, unaware of all the pain happening around her. Then looking down at the paper before her she started to write in a scawling script,

“Mariana, my lovely child…” she paused, footsteps running down the hall towards her quarters.

Ariana gasped, covering her child's mouth with one delicate hand as the child's eyes fluttered open curious, and the footsteps dashed past the door. “Oh dear don’t cry now it will all-.” They were interrupted with a fierce pounding on the door.

“Be okay?!” Someone yelled from the hall, “Really? Let me in your mightiness! Although I wouldn’t allow my subjects to call me that if I couldn’t save them from dying at the hands of someone you wish you could destroy but aren't alive enough to !” A choking laughter escaped from the evil standing outside the door.

Ariana barely glanced at the door and registered the banging before she threw the blankets over her child and messed up the bed hoping she would just be thought of as a mess of blankets, the servants hadn’t come that morning anyways.

“Your time has come to meet your lost men. Just open up all sweet and calmly, I wouldn’t want to break down this beautifully ornate door and the deather brothers wouldn’t want their new kingdom to be ruined even by a stubborn entrance.”

Ariana shook her head and opened the window looking down onto the ground below. She could escape now and live, but it would mean leaving a child she loved dearly to the moon behind. She had to make her decision, leave behind the child and hoped she survived or be killed and hope the child would make it out alive.

She crawled out the window, making her way down the castle and towards the woods. She knew in her heart somehow the child would survive, mothers always knew. They could see the lifetime of everyone pass through their heads if they wanted to. Mothers had a special kind of magic that no one else had, not kings, not lords, not knights, not servants, or even daughters and sons. They had the magic to believe and see the best in everyone.

As she hurried into the forest, taking one longing look back at the kingdom she lived for and would die for. She knew she couldn’t do the same things for her child. A daughter to one day rise and resurrect the kingdom. A princess to steal it back from the devils darkness and reunite the people. A queen to one day become the most powerful sorcerer and creator that would ever walk across the earth and live with the common people. And a panther. One who would be remembered as the kindest and loving soul that was tricked and fooled yet stood tall as she lived to resurrect, reunite, and rule over a kingdom she unburied from ashes.