The park is getting dark

And the dusk is rather cold

A fog is creeping in

And the shadows become bold

The giggle of a hiding child

The growl of a stalking beast

A snap and rustle in woods nearby

— will I be its feast?

I think back to the early morn,

When I took this shady dare

To chase the ghost in Holy Park

with her mane of fiery hair

A flash between the trees,

The tail of a flowing flame

My mind and knees go weak

When I remember why I came

And so against all sense and reason

I chase her through the night

And she of blue soul and gold fire

Shimmers brilliant in the flight

We reach the end of the wooded park

Sometime near the rise of dawn

Exhausted, I stop, then watch in shock

As she changes to a grazing fawn

It looks up at me, uncomprehending

Eyes flat and disengaged

Was this all? I wonder, unimpressed

Then my soul ignites, engraged

No — that’s not my soul burning hot

That’s not an emotion, but real flame

And all at once I realize

The ghost got me at her game

Where once my solid legs stood firm

There is now a wispy, ghostly hue

Where once my hair hung dark and straight

Strands of burning gold lick against the blue

I am no more…

Except for one goal…

To roam Holy park….

and a beseech soul.