Phantasmagoria

Just like a phantom 
Blue and barely there 
A vision or a dream takes me  
Akin to a glare 

We’re sitting in a parked car
In a parking lot you paved
The torment is unrelenting
When will I be saved

Fragments flash in front of me
You’re telling me you love me
The symmetry unwinds
Is it a mistake or a design
A remembering or a retelling 
Or a holy sign

I come from the bad rock the phantom whispers
As generations of love unrequited
And passion lost pass before me
It was then I knew
Resentment untended to
Takes root

What it showed me next 
Was the meaning of it All
A great big tree 
Standing big 
And standing tall

It was then I knew
That the root of the tree can’t tell the bud to grow
Though the root may have it’s ambitions
The bud springs forth on its own accord
Under its own conditions
In the absence of a Lord

It went as quickly as it came
I know I’ll never be the same
In that moment I knew what I had to do
I could no longer weep
So I wrote these visions here for you

The view from Castiello Medioevale Di Cleto, the village where all four of my grandparents were born. Locally known as “Petramala,” it translates to "The Bad Rock." The name, according to legend, was coined when a medieval princess, ascending the hill to the castle, was thrown from her donkey.