Ali Conn

Photo by Mike L on Unsplash

People do well, and then they excel and some will find their zone. These people impress, increasing finesse, until they come into their own. A form mimicking nature cannot be built, nor can it be chiselled from stone. It may only be sculpted by waves of our being, of experience and surrender to unknowns. With increased recognition people are promoted in life, to a career or level “above”. Here they lie, where they quietly die, across decades of life & love. A short life of being, a short bout of truth, is all that most will know. But the great — the truly great, you see — will always continue to grow. Strength comes in realising where one has fallen, and in getting back up despite pain. And when getting back up remembering that fall, so you don’t do it again.



They come out at night when there’s a full moon they say —

They emerge from the shadows when you’re alone or astray.

With their crystalline figure so gloomy and sad,

As they try to remember the life they once had.

Some soar through old castles screeching and howling,

While others wonder through graveyards unhappy and scowling.

Some people say they’re legends, some say they are real,

Some say they’re there to hurt, some say they’re there to heal.

Most Phantoms might be just lonely and looking for a friend;

They’re not trying to scare you until your hairs stand on end.

But some are restless spirits waiting to attack,

Those people that killed them, all that time back.