Who were we then?
When did we begin?
Why did we worry?
Where did we end?

It was nothing.
It was everything.
It was our life.
It was our death.

Why did we go?
Why did we wander?
Why did we starve?
Why were we naked?

Who knows?
Who cares?
Who wants?
Who needs?

Is it all bullshit?
Is it all truth?
Is it all fantasy?
Is anything real?

The desert of life?
The rhythm of song?
The slither of a snake?
The empty ocean?

Nowhere to go.
Nowhere to be.
Nobody listens.
Nobody answers.

It was a journey of love on a long desert highway of fire and ice where angels ride white unicorns into endless moonless nights and stars fell to earth on those drinking Absinthe in an outdoor bistro on a dark street in Paris while bears rest in winter from summer adventures in far away mountains where the banshee dwells in a hobbit house making silver jewelry for sale on Etsy to pilgrims on the Camino Real who feared the loss of their souls to a poet’s lament whose words made sense only to those who could feel sadness.

A poltergeist knocked over 
a chair in my mind 
waking me on a sunny day 
when clouds foreshadowed
the night when the veil 
between here and there 
no longer exists .

Candles burn quiet 
inside carved faces
which cast eery light along 
cold dark trails we walked.

Crisp leaves underfoot 
crackle as creepy goblins 
walk in silent search 
of chocolate and apples.
 
Wispy warlocks and severe shamans dance 
by a bright bonfire lighted to guide
weary searching souls traveling under 
a ghostly yellow moon shadowed by a cloud 
so silver faced elves might hunker safe on
All Hallows Eve.