Spectral Whispers

————Authors Note————

If you are familiar with me on a personal level, you are likely aware of the profound encounter I am currently facing—a deeply intimate brush with mortality, or more precisely, the cessation of mortality. At present, my mother wrestles with cancer, and though her fortitude and valor shine as beacons in the somber ambiance surrounding me, I struggle to escape the clutches of an all-consuming preoccupation with death.

Within this poem lies the essence of that fixation, expressed through a tapestry of evocative words, weaving a tale of a man yearning to usher the departed into a realm that may hold the promise of a brighter existence, if such a realm exists at all. I invite you to immerse yourself in its verses, and perhaps, it will offer solace and respite to those among you who, like me, find themselves incessantly pondering the enigmatic question, “What lies beyond?”

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Spectral Whispers

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Torn asunder in earth’s thunderous roar,

No wonder lies for those lost and lorn,

Yet I impede their return, seeking redemption,

For a soul left to burn and yearn once more,

Unveiling secrets that remain unturned.

In the moonlit night, the tempest’s might,

Whispers secrets, a haunting delight,

Through mist-clad air, I tread with despair,

Eyes wide, searching for souls in the gloom’s snare.

As I inhale the night’s long-held air,

I ponder who’s left to gaze and stare,

Into the abyss they’ve felt, despair,

Generations past, burdened to bear.

Fear of death does not seize or bind me,

Nor does pain grasp or confine me,

It’s the loneliness I’ve always feared,

That leaves me crumpled upon the floor.

Forlorn and forgotten, their spirits roam,

Lost echoes trapped in this spectral tome,

Their anguished cries, a mournful lament,

Echo through halls of eternal torment.

As loved ones pass, most hurl words crass,

In denial, hoping it will all simply pass,

But it’s my thoughts that I beseech,

To be a raven, guiding them to solace.

To guide them home, to a realm of bravery,

Where life beyond lays them, free from worry,

Let their souls find eternal comfort and solace,

As they drift amidst the uncharted shores.

In shadows deep, where darkness resides,

I weave a tapestry of their forgotten lives,

Through winding corridors of eternity,

Their whispered stories, a solemn serenity.

And in that comforting solace they find,

May their souls never befall us in kind,

For my hands become a chalice divine,

Drinking darkness like never before.

In the hallowed night, a raven’s flight,

I carry their burdens, their sorrows alight,

With wings outstretched, in ethereal grace,

I guide them through death’s timeless embrace.

Weak and breathless, they prepare for death’s embrace,

And I, the raven, bestowed with solemn grace,

Only to ferry their souls through the door,

With tender push, into the unknown space.

Through veils of mist and whispers of dread,

I lead them to realms where no living tread,

Where shadows dance with ethereal glee,

And the spirits find solace, forever free.

So let the melodic cadence weave its spell,

In this macabre symphony, where shadows dwell,

Within the tapestry of forgotten souls,

Lost and trapped, in the night’s eternal toll.