Stardust.

The ghosts came back again.

In the pouring rain, I walked down my street. It was nearly pitch black, but the street lights were cold and brilliant.
And from every street corner, they came. Whispering. whispering...

and the time came. the dancers fell through the ice. tears fell up. down. raining.
it looks like acid rain tonight. this misery that they bring is ephemeral.

and a shockwave blasted through the city. the sky gleamed and changed to white. crack. crack. boom.
and the sky began falling. pieces of white. fragments of stars. stardust. moondust.

and the city froze. when such wonders fall glittering from the sky, how can one ignore it?

and somewhere. somewhere in the city, someone's dreaming ends. their eyes are wide open. crazed ambition fills their glassy gleam. their eyes fill with it.

and all of their blind ambition left them deaf with perfect vision...
how on earth did they end up in the fireplace?

I can't stand it anymore. I simply collapse. These ghosts will not leave me.

And a shockwave echoes through the city. The stardust falls.
Such wonderful, glittering misery.

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Words colours figures twisting anguish softness reds and browns lace cloth clouds comfort time stops frame eyes spheres prints souls life feeling emotion looping dripping draping misshapen.

And it was beautiful beyond description.

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I went for a walk again this morning. I kept expecting to run into someone I knew, or at least someone. I kept hoping that we would see each other from far away, then slowly draw closer, and each of us would wonder why the other was out so early. Then we'd begin talking, out of pure curiosity.
But I didn't see anyone.

This is a terrible place to meet people.

Night's Requiem.

I took a walk again tonight. It was a frigid night.

There's a field in the neighborhood. I found myself there, for no particular reason.
There was frost on the asphalt.
Up in the sky, the moon gleamed in a pool of black ink. So bright. Pale as a bone. Cold as ice.

In the empty field, the moonlit grass stretched into a dark haze of trees. Not a soul in sight. Not even ghosts.

I laid down in the center of the field. The chilly night air blew through the grass, creating rippling waves.
And the ghosts descended. As did sleep.
When I woke up, the sun was barely tinting the sky a dark blue.
I couldn't stay there all night.
As I walked home, I kept my eyes on the brightening sky.
And as I walked past the cold, bright streetlamps, the night came flooding back.

The ghosts. Frost. Weeds. Grass. Bone. Frigid. Soul. Trees. Waves.

But then the vision became too vivid to bear.
I was on the ground. It was quiet as a graveyard.

And then I realized it.
There was no one here.

And as I lay on the ground, the ghosts descended again. I didn't move.
And I spent the dawn in the company of ghosts.