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I sing
I write
And I play
For a ghost

Yes he is
A ghost
He doesnít exist

But he is here with me
And I am trying to send
Him home

I guess I understand now
Why when he was alive
I could never bring my pen
To write

Thatís not
Why I write

I donít write because there is life
To live
I write Ďcause when thereís nothing left

When the life is out of his eyes
All there is
For me
Are my words

This is a safe place
This is where I can let my mind

I'm so tired of wandering
I have to work now
To send him home

Where my memory of him

"Soul of my soul of the soul of a hundred universes,
be water in this now-river, so jasmine flowers
will lift on the brim, and someone far off
can notice the flower-colors and know
there's water here."

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The following comments are for "Send him Home"
by IcicleIcicle

I feel this poem
Great work :-) It awakens my own ghost. My chest felt heavy reading it.

( Posted by: Ari [Member] On: August 9, 2007 )

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