This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival…
the chance pull on a love-me petal
the tap on wainscot where a mouse

abides as unexpected guest
spying out our naked consciousness
nebulous mix of pride and bashfulness
coy pheasant with an ostentatious crest

ghosts behind broken windows peer
they haunt each daylight visitor
but look beyond an aged perimeter
and watch how apparitions disappear

This ghost shall one day guest a human being
when sleep dust falls away unseeing

Inspired by MLM’s collaged writing prompt #187 with Rumi’s “The Guest House” poem