Dancing Dead

the wind, my old friend, takes me by the collar, drags me through the streets, past the ghosts of yesterday, whispering secrets of the lost and found.

the past, not a chain, but a smirk in the mirror, a reminder of battles fought, and scars worn with pride, as the days grow lighter, and the gods play their games, laughing as mortals die.

my soul, a restless student, ever hungry for wisdom, my heart, a reckless fool, charging headlong into chaos, embracing the bruises, the lessons etched in flesh and bone.

we surrendered to the magic, danced with the shadows of our forebears, feet tracing ancient rhythms, an old soul tuning into the eternal hum, the pulse of the universe, a symphony of time and space.

I read the cards, wore the stones, let the smoke of old rituals chase away the darkness, the weight of the world lifted, if only for a moment.

runes scattered on my desk, curses melted into wax, books whispering secrets, teaching me to breathe, to find peace in the chaos, to see beauty in the broken.

and as the wind carries me, in every which way, I smile at the journey, the twists and turns, the highs and lows, knowing that in the end, it’s all part of the dance.

By Sebastian J. Blanchette