This is completely for the mood. I've been on a Mount-Pyre-and-ghost-type high these few weeks. I did it, once again, totally on a whim. If you liked this, you should read "echo", which I also wrote, and which is a lot better than this.
spirit mountain
Somewhere far up in the mist
They dance and sing their endless songs
Watching over the dead like beautiful guardians
Shades matching the stones, the fog
-
Blue flames dance about the graves
Casting light through the thickness of the mist
Lighting the tombs
Not to brilliantly
Silent blue sentinels of the endless night and day
-
They shift between headstones
Pale, almost transparent
Sighing as they slip by the stony marks of the forlorn
Once bound to the earth, now free
But only as free as the mist
-
Endless landscapes of grey and white
Unending blurs, like a monochrome painting
Swirling and curling like watery tentacles
Filling the freezing air, cold as marble
-
Holding within it, no trace of warmth.
-
Fire? Fire, the image of those who haunt this world
Walking the dead grass with soft footsteps
Images. Illusions that bear no trace of heat
More lifeless than the wind, motionless as the stars
-
But what is this place, really
A dim world that seems neither real, nor imaginary
Spiralling around the peak, the unmarked roads
Reaching up towards the centre
A shrine that pulses with energy
-
A gateway, a way of passage for spirits
The one sole exit from this world into the Other
The way by which the spirits drift, like dead leaves
Towards the promise at the other side of this gate
-
And the ghosts—they are the ones who once tried to pass through
But were denied entry, and had no place else to go
Nothing else to do
But to haunt this world for their eternal lifetimes
And drift about the spirit mountain
Like mist, a part of the mist, forever.
-
A world watched by the silent
A world further from humanity than death...
…
The end. Review.