As words patter on a myriad ears in here,
Out there - a patter of rain drops
We try to define, describe, capture
Outside, there is a letting-go
A million droplets gather, merge, shed
While a million more condense overhead
A million thoughts, here, waiting to crystallise, form
Merging, shedding (perhaps) is still afar
They just float around, tied - like kites on strings
A gust here 'n there tips the balance
As the drops gather, the leaves tip over
Crystal beads on emerald beds of glade
Here, the mind is the bed - so soft
Absorbing, soaking. Some beads run right off.
A break in the clouds - a break in thoughts
A glimmer of clear sky and then the drizzle again
The rhythm is soothing, predictable, known
Like a cushy sofa where nothing is new
Just sink in, let the thoughts sink in - there're so many
The path of least resistence is perhaps the best
Oh bother! These patterns bore the mind
But it gives the space to get lost in
A maze to wander through - endlessly
You know the corners, smile and move on
Out there, the patter is drawing to an end
Or is it just a pause, before a greater onslaught?
The emerald beds bend no more, just a sway maybe
The crystal beads lay scattered
Like the thoughts that broke free from the kite strings...

Ghosts from the past can sometimes have this unsettling habit of materialising when I least expect them to. Not that I particularly expect them to materialise at any given point, but there have of course been instances when I have thought of them. When they do make their appearance it is usually greeted by a knee-jerk reaction from me - often with drastic consequences.

Two ghosts materialised over the last couple of months. And in both cases I reacted quite unexpectedly - even to myself. Fact is, I hardly reacted. In one case I took a long time to respond, and when I did I wasn't sure whether it makes any difference to me if I do so or not. There was no "for old times' sake" sentiment - I am not fond of all the old times for sure.

In the second case I did not respond at all. There was an urge of immediate concern simply because I still care about this ghost in some way - there are old times that I am still fond of. Once the urge was conquered, I did not feel the need to do anything at all. My ghost is at peace with me, and that is the way I shall leave it - a reaction might actually upset the apple-cart which has taken four years to settle. My ghost deserves this much.