“Who are you?” I ask,
“That haunts my window?”
From my bed, I see a man
Transparent and worn from time
Donning a tattered white cloak
And chains cuffing his wrist
It clawed at the glass and howled in grief and agony
Its shackles ground heavily against the earth
“Slave to nothing, who sent thee?
The devil himself or those who curse me?”
Suddenly, its eyes glowed red and my heart quickened
“Tell me,” I yell, “who is your master?”
It growls as it finger pierces my soul
“Master, why have you forsaken me?” It says in contempt.
“I know you not!” I screamed.
“I am you in the past, and the future,” It sneered.
“I am your sorrow and joy.”
Forget me not for I will visit thee every night.
Call to your God for only He can save thee.”
“So you are not of heaven,” I queried, “and not of earth,
then why do plague? What have I done to earn your wrath?”
It pointed again at me
A lump formed in my throat
“For you are me and I am you.”