His ghost lurks
beyond the plumb of perception
in mystery
and gloom,
choosing only some.

Go not alone.

Moonless nights on the Pali
you may hear
the faint chanting
the sound of the drums
between hinged peaks
where petroglyphs point
to his secret tomb.

Kamehameha, The Great One
born in the year of Halley’s comet
a formidable foe
even in death.

And behold his ghost oozing
through an ancient door
bewitching waterfalls
linking the past and present,

a great conquest
where hundreds are massacred, driven over the Pali cliffs.
a fierce warrior and
his army
looming in the mist.

A great and terrible army
howling for blood.

revealed in the eye
of a venomous black widow
her web
with prey.

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