Spectre,
your ethereal presence floats
on high as we stride under thicket
and bush.
Canopy of green paired with
wall of wood,
we shelter and parse.
The containers of our world are dying
and fraught,
the demons ravaged our home
and left us for dead.
Are you my soul?
Darkened, wizened, clinging via
final lifeline that stretches
before me,
transparent umbilical your secrets
are beholden to you alone.
I traipse onward,
hollow and hunting for
that lost meaning.