In a talus cave of the fallen,
a ghost hides from the dark
Water, memories drip nearby,
strumming as a meadowlark.
When it rains, memories flood
the cave, and rivulets run high
The ghost helplessly howls,
craving tears that are now dry.
After rains, the thunder strikes
as was promised all along
The dark pain then rumbles,
writhes, and coagulates a song.
The ghost lives on; crushed and
torn, his soul wanders the wrong
The brutal pain still swirls within,
but the darkness is now a song.
Footnote: Talus caves are open space formed between boulders – often large – piled up on mountain slopes or narrow canyons. There are many such caves in the beautiful Pinnacles National Park (see one above peeking from behind the large boulder in the right third of the image). Refer to those trees for scale. If you visit talus caves in the Pinnacles, let me know if you come across the ghost with a song.