I see her there; her face blends with the images of others. I cannot place her name, so many have come and gone. Is it a mirage or a demon from the past? I cannot tell, but it causes a spark of fear. I kiss the fear and passion touches my lips. It passes through my mouth and into my body. Like a poison it rises, giving birth to past dreams and fantasies. Ideas that were dead, I see the shovel, and yet they have climbed forth with a vengeance. A monster with a thousand heads that carries the shades of the past? Horrible is the thought that such issues can arise after so long, it is the moonlight’s fault. I blame that orb above that draws forth knowledge and lost dreams. It pulls such random phantoms from their depths and throws them as obstacles at our feet. I see them in the moonlight still.