Beautiful Spirit Poem by Richard Jarboe

Thick phantoms of wonder,
All mysteries rip,
Return with composure,
From their seasonal trip.

They return from a charred inner landscape,
From ambiguity,
From everything discolored,
From grim tranquility.

A moral being overturned,
Could have offered a helping hand,
But who could accept it,
In such a desolate land.

Somewhere through it all,
Dwells a beautiful spirit,
Whispering beneath the ruins,
And the quiet ones hear it.

Such a beautiful spirit,
A prisoner, a peasant, an orphan,
Yet somehow fresh air,
Drifting over despair.