Part 1 of: I want to perform for ghosts!

I want to be a tour guide to haunted houses and towns.

I wish to glimpse ghosts, with an army of tourists around.

I'd introduce them to the unseen non-living lurkers
I imagine, over time, the undead and I becoming chummy co-workers:

For some I'd have nicknames,

Like stretch, gopher and hams.

With others: office games

Like "who's holding my hand?!"

All this in attempt to aim to gain
An audience made up of these unseen spectres of gloom.

“But Scott you fool, are you insane?
To enter an empty un-empty room
Of shadows from flickers of remnant remembrances
re-returning at given points of circumstan-instances;

An echo chamber of what's gone and what's come,
On nights Nans and Grans warned us to go every which way from?”

Yes. I'll stand there, in their haunted house home;

I'll take centre stage, eerily un-alone,

And on that makeshift stage (makeshift it must be,
because builders won't build where they're scared you see)

I'll take my mark and state my name,

Post mark, post name I'll stake this claim:

"Let those who aren't here, hear my request

Allow me to flood this falsely empty un-emptiness!

Hear me in my musings, that you might be amused,

Let said musings still your unending moves.

Remnants of what was, when it once was,

While being not now, what once you once were;

Let your eternity come to a pause,

And I'll humbly offer my poetry in, gracious return."

With prologue passed, silence starts ...

Gives way to a whisper and creak.

A shuffle summons a sliver of light.

Then in it I step, and from it I speak: