This poem was written just as it happened, waking in the middle of a June night to find that, "This was indeed a spectral night, where one could freely walk and converse with ghosts... (Lunacy follows the full moon with spectral hosts...) Trying to sleep is futile tonight... "
Yes, I have my ghosts and there are many sleepless nights when they come to visit and we spend a melancholy night together...
Fortunately, they are not angry or vengeful phantoms. Rather, they are reminders of sad lessons learned. Often from my youth when trust was given and betrayed.
Acknowledging it, I am free to forgive and proceed without a need for vengeance or anger.
I have also touched the face of madness, tracing its' outline as a blind man might familiarize himself with the face of a newfound lover.
Perhaps I have escaped with my sanity intact, but I have not been left unaffected...