Spirits pulse within me

Approaching oh so timely

For nearly no time is wrong for the past

They penetrate from within,

Slither

I hear the echoes whisper, they speak softly in my ear.
They dwell among the spirits but I know I need not fear.
They speak

They wore silver then
on their brows,
blue-black hair
caught up in argent rings
a long stream
of night
rushing down their backs.
Who

I wish to learn of demons, ghosts, aliens and u.f.o.s,
But there is no one to ask for no one really knows.
Common sense dictates

I don't know if this really qualifies as "ancient," but this was written for, and with T.S.Eliot and Walt Whitman in mind,