I should think I’m a better ghost of a poet
Than a human being, why?
We no longer share a language
I’ve become too abstract, like
How sometimes everything seems
So subjective, until I lose myself
In the dream of a body
In the hopes of a mortal life
That nonetheless anticipates ecstasy
Even when I have learned to fear pain
Trusting the moment, walking through fire
To get to some place that was
Inside myself all along
The most solid advice my soul ever gave
Was to burn my hand about the nature of fire
To live as a poet might live
But I’m, more heart than alchemy
More curiosity, than temptation
More innovator, than life-traveller
Poetry and astrology were my mother-tongues
Until I had to learn new languages
Software and smiling, to enter
The Sunday of my brief life
Dying to myself that I might
Feel the bliss of a frozen moment
That melts perfectly into the here and now.
Wuji Seshat 
I’m feeling your vibes today. This era does seem contrary to a true poet’s life.
I love this, Wuji. “A better ghost of a poet”
I can understand being the ghost poet.
Yes it’s a bit fun.
True
Something different, I like it!
Stunning as always Sir. It is a battle to not succumb and fall away amidst the humdrum we are inflicted with – but – we continue 🙂