Saturday, October 31, 2015


Even if we cannot see them
In every place we walk
There is a film of discontent
A visitation of past prescience
Veneered atop our waking world
Ghosts are everywhere
Spectators of unfilled instance
And we can feel their touch
Long, slow breaths of longing
For they covet another creation
Away from their shadows
Where time captures all dismay
And makes it wander the earth