The ghostly hours sneak into the mind to fool around with thoughts,
It reminds the heart of all the memories that were forgotten but not lost;
They must have been somewhere in the scheme to unnerve the plot.
The soul must be engaged with the ephemeral chaos around a glowing orb-
These vanishing hours invoke the unpleasantness of impious powers.
Languid reveries are breathed new life by some raised desires of a spell,
Losing one’s identity among the aroused reality flowing effortlessly.
Nebulous vision watches the world in a haze of excitements; a synchronised drill,
Of the Spirits of another world trying to manipulate time and it’s relevance.
Tremulous lips utter obscure sounds, in the synchronicity of another time.
A glowing orb pulsates in a tremendous passion of some exorcised rhythm,
In the unfortunate memory of being in a knot, when the life drops were in a clot.
Fantasy is severe one the psyche of time, pressed by the onerous designs of such passion;
Claims and defenses are separated by a magical glass wall tougher than any earthly truth.
Choosing between the fantasies and senseless meanderings of a timeless vacuum.