GHOSTS

 Ghosts of illusions that awaken anguish,
feverish will-o'-the-wisps within the darkness,
let the thought sleep in a corner of the body,
do not drag the chains of evil through the mind,
do not wander through the chambers of tribulations,
silence your sighs and rest in peace.

Ghosts of projects, of age-old certainties,
today you stir the soil that covers passion,
dig deep graves, bury the failures,
do not wither the lilies with an ancient sorrow,
do not light the night with furtive flashes,
drive away the twilight so the sun may shine.

Ghosts of the flesh that announce our death
in the air, in the water, in the fire, in the earth,
set aside the destiny conquered in freedom,
do not desert the coffin that encloses matter,
do not tear the roots from sealed tombs,
guard the elements of divine existence.

Ghosts of doubt, dense mist of the soul,
visions from beyond upon eyelids of steel,
tend sacred pyres, kindle the torches,
do not extinguish the beacons with sinister sophisms,
do not profane the crypts with idols of clay,
respect the prayer rising in the smoke of incense.

Ghosts of echoes that cry out our names
through the shadowed caves of inner emptiness,
intonate the words of inviolable psalmody,
do not forget the cadence of the final song,
do not pronounce the letters of beginning and end,

remember the prayer of the very first voice.