Nobody recognizes the ghost that walks
The streets of day, nobody sees
The dark light that shines in silence
Of the mind, in such unseeing I float;
Innocent, discreet as darkness. Unseen
Is the stark form under my cerement.
The wind blows quiet.
How can the dreamless know their gods?
To the blind I am but an invisible maiden,
Mute, stepless, unreal: I am occult.
The scarab at my neck is a keyless lock.
I wander lost, searching with slanted eyes.