The Mystical ...seldom have some footnotes in reality...
I have no proof for this event
fair to say it might never have been
All I have is these few stanzas
Conversations with a spirit none have seen.
My village is a quiet little country
not a usual haunt for lost souls
you would occasionally find the local drunkard
voraciously arguing with the old electric pole .
My eyes alert for any suspicious movement
regret filling my journey this unearthly hour
my heart eerily missing those odd few beats
as I see an odd figure under the shadow's cover.
He sits lazily beneath the Banyan tree
his mannerism sedate, wise & other-worldly
a look of a favorite lovable old uncle
shiny spectacles & a flowing beard to the knee .
All those horror stories of old granny
powerpointed before my eyes
my heart absolutely still
the throat stifling out my cries.
'What be thou doing at this hour ?' .. he wondered
a question methinks that befitted him better
'I am of this village, good Sir. My house beyond these gates .
been late than usual .. My family eager in their wait ..'
"Oh !! Thou must be poor young Stephen …
they sang songs about thee ..
thou elder brother cried the loudest …
though your parents pained beyond decree .."
"Of what songs .. do you mention of ?? ", I asked …
panic rising steadily down my spine…
'I have been late for not more than a day …
surely ... that certainly ain't some crime !!
"Son .. Do thou not remember anything …
about thy journey on that bike …
about the sudden black-out you felt …
and that white light floating by… "
" Of course, I rememb .... " my voice eerily cut short ……
life taking a splendid irony ,all reasons, spectacularly getting lost .
Speechless, was I .. standing there all alone ..
T'was poor old me .. just another lifeless Ghost.