The monologue of the spirit from The Great In-Between.

A dramatic, mystical lament expressing:

• Longing for a lost or unreachable lover

• Fear of being forgotten or unloved

• Hope for reunion in spiritual realms if not in life

• The blending of memory, dream, fantasy, and metaphysics

It’s both a love letter and a ghost story—a message from someone who feels removed from the world yet bound to one person with overwhelming devotion.

The ultimate purpose of the monologue—

to avoid being forgotten.

(A lone voice whispers)

Lost in this unrepentant noise of an old life, as it still seduces my mind.

Consuming and beguiling, I speak to you from the other side as these magical words, conjured from the deep crimson lips of my inner mind.

Reaches out to hypnotise thine.

Words which once lay lost but are now found in the transient music of the unknown and forlorn.

How my inner light shines ever brighter, as it repeats these beautifully written words with my softly spoken voice, above the unrepentant noise.

My skin comes alive like the Great Canopies in unexplored jungles, in the deepest of Africa, at dawn.

I just now dream a continuous fantasy which infuses my bloodstreams and veins with copious energy.

There have always been subtle moments throughout long-lost days

and cold nights, when that irresistible longing and need seemed too much.

When I pined hourly for just a feel of your touch.

Would I be abandoned like another slave to the four winds by unrequited love, forever burning?

Spinning endlessly in desires, salacious red fires?

Just hoping to walk within your shadows or sate my thirst and hunger.

With just a glimpse of you passing by my pale white window, I still look from.

Just to see you standing by the well by that old apple tree, to break me free from this dark dream.

As I walk, trapped in a never-ending limbo.

It's where I turn to each night as I think of you and stare out my scrying glass, which I use as my second shadow.

How do I reach you?

Those old road maps and contacts are still yours to give.

For they are your deep secrets, you still purposely keep from these lands.

Those beautiful grounds on which you still stand.

There may be uncertainty and unexplored hordes and mountains

to conquer between us.

"Grimoires of Gossip," whispered in the dark to keep us apart.

But still, I send this message out.

If you're hearing this, Josephine.

We’ll now meet in the Astral planes of dreams.

Where we’ll need no more formal introductions as we already know our own truly secretive god-given names.

In the many still alive treacheries which may still surround your broken heart like She'ol, as you traverse this world.

Within your living Universe, when you feel totally lost and so lonely.

Know my white candle still burns even through all the rain clouds and storms, when you feel trapped, and breathlessness spins over your overthinking emotions.

Remember me thinking of you.

Somewhere just over the world's many oceans.

Just standing patiently under that red old lamp post by some Red Churches' wrought iron old gates.

No matter how late.

Maybe I’ll wait forever, but if I'm gone before you arrive.

If I’ve waited too long, and I eventually disappear and ascend.

I'll leave you a red envelope under the white stones by the gatepost on the left.

In it is my road map to the stars, where I will now stay and reside and will always wait.

Where I will now stand by an old alabaster church, I will create and build and wait under its white lamp post.

By its sparkling wrought iron old gates.

Remember me.

(C) Copyright John Duffy

Image shared under fair usage policy.