We are surrounded by ghosts,
tangled in the days, the web
of weeks, which weave in
months and years; those ghosts
of the dead, once loved, once
dreamt, once hoped, once for
a moment thought, felt, held
in a bright possibility, which
failed to endure; and yet they
roam the edges of dark day
and shining night, always. We
are surrounded by ghosts....
