image/webp | Sep 3, 2024 at 5:49 PM | 11 edition(s)

I’ve been thinking of specters of late, their presence in our lives, what are they here for? What do they want? Or are they really just a fragment of us? Do you speak to ghosts? How do you know? I speak to them, And watch them glow, They’re everywhere, They’re everyone that you know, They’re all around. You’ll see them everywhere in the shadows, I read their words in the doctrines and manuals they left on the tables of Look at what they left behind, I think they’re still here, In the ecstasy of death, We leap like giants from our skin All the while the angels sing. Do you speak to ghosts? Do you speak to them? In the ecstasy of death, We leap like giants from our skin, All the while the angels sing. The bells around my morning, When they have tendered been, The rake next to the cobbled walls, The merchants bask in sin, I think of all the travels of our ancestors, And the stakes they claimed at last. To build their homes and make their mark upon the mast. When the person is out of body, And the world is fractured in time, The location unify our spirits is in the sacred wine, They speak to others and to us, through the vessels of our being, Memories are the bedrock of a world beyond our own. Where ghosts are made at the omens place, And question Kings upon the throne. I often wonder if I am a ghost, And I cannot transcend, I speak to the living as they question my existence. Hosted by the Holy Ghost And it’s choir’s rendition, A parade of the fallen, Walks in our lives, We are their ghosts, And time is our conductor, ~ Laurence Fuller, 2024 Cinematic poetry by Laurence Fuller. Minted for FakeWhale's "Art Market" exhibition. Original poetry, performance, sound, AI cinematics by @laurencefuller laurencefuller.art