Conjuration of ghosts is done.
No need for medicine anymore.

Poet heal thyself, save your grave for later.
Gnash no more!

Strolling around the House
Yearning closer, to savor a sunny autumn day.

So... the river it is. Flowing through, piercing the city.
Impaled. It has an aura like blood. Like life.
Towers of clouds smile.
Passersby are winding uknown.

I would reach for you, if you fall.

Colours blend into one. One stops.

Ghost is gone. The wraiths are vanquished.

So dances the Queen.
Achingly beautiful to meet you.


"...making sweet air from my burning thought..."