Sunday, March 8, 2009

Ghost

Through the ages may come wisdom

Experience could yield reason

In whichever reality fulfillment may be

Order and chaos seem of equal possibility

 

Thoughts abstract haunt in places dark

Words unspoken with a connotation broken

A sentence could be formed or even more

But for reasons nameless they have meaning none

 

A scream that’s voiceless, vociferous, arousing

Late it is to undo the wheel of suffering

Alas that these ominous days…

Should be yours

 

The young perish and the aged linger

In paths of old with superfluous recall

Immortality…

Without a soul

 

 

 

 

 

 

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