The Revolving Ghost

He was there for a fleeting season,

A sudden light, a hollow reason.

I thought the roots were sinking deep,

But he left in silence, secrets to keep.

He walked away with no goodbye,

Leaving me a list of "how" and "why."



Then he returned, a familiar flame,

Whispering hope and calling my name.

I opened the door, I let him in,

Believing this time the story would win.

But the light went out, the air turned cold,

And once again, the same ghost took hold.



Now he stands at the threshold once more,

Waiting for me to unbolt the door.

But I am haunted by the questions I face:

Is there any magic left in this place?

Is it worth the weight of the dark to follow,

When every promise rings so hollow?



Should I hold the spark until it burns,

And wait for the lesson the heart never learns?

Or should I break the wheel and finally see,

That the only way out is to set myself free?

The loop is a cage where the spirit grows thin,

And I am tired of letting the winter back in.

The magic is no longer magical when it is used to keep you suspended in uncertainty. I am realizing that "letting go" isn't a loss of love, but a gain of peace. To break the loop is to choose a path where the ground doesn't disappear beneath my feet every time he decides to leave. I am trading the flickering light of his return for the steady, quiet warmth of my own freedom.