The spectral crossroads
White spectral wind,
Blowing the lunar dust
In spiral beauty.
Eyes like diamonds in the ruff,
Like swords of the ancient samurai.
Sharp, cold, merciless.
A warrior I see.
A warrior he will be.
White spectral wind,
Blowing the lunar dust
A torrent of shattered dreams
Mesmerizing my mind.
When I rest, and sleep,
I see the crossroads.
A desert land, a pool of water,
Ten doors and a mirror.
A place of meeting minds.
(A door to my mind,
Or to someone else’s?)
His eyes look through me and I see hate.
His mind passes over me and I feel hate.
Hate.
A White spectral wind,
Blowing through my mind,
Stirring the lunar dust.
Stirring my mind.
This is a poem I wrote a while back, tell me what you think.
