I contemplated calling you a vicious reptile, a white dragon,
Whose toenails I would clip without hesitance, very rapidly,
To curb your hold, the way you deliberately claw your way
Destructively into the human flesh, painfully and precise.
But I opted to call you a roaming shadow, a devious one,
Who comes when night begins to fall on the fragile and shaky.
You transmit no ray, utter no sound, just descend ghostly
To usurp the slightest beam of light that still shines, flickers.
Sometimes you exhale as smoke, or drop as a blunt needle,
Even provide a seemingly soothing comfort down a dry throat.
It is not one glow that you rob constantly, yet you present it so.
You offer a smooth relentless release that conquers homes and love.
Sometimes I wish I was a dreamcatcher, for shadows, ghosts.
For if I was, their end would be exact, closer, and final.
Just the way they penetrate the human soul, thoughtfully.
Sometimes brooding, waiting for the precise moment
To dislocate soul, spirit, mind, and heart, satisfactory.
The wind reminds me that I am not, only humanly constructed,
In waiting of a Spirit that will timeously blow away the shadow,
Disorientate ghosts from a seductively constructed pathway.
Such a relief it is not to bare this responsibility, this burden,
To allow who I am just to be a guide, perhaps another light,
That shines dimly across the bay to beckon the traveler home.
Patiently waiting at the shore to receive a ship with wind-filled sails
