They walk around, feeling light,
and skip despite their burdens.
How tragic that their Darkness
lies inside, where it's been
lured in.
They are alive
but do they live according to the Books?
Their washed up hearts
and fiery darts
make them the Common Crooks.
But Ghosts are all the rest of us;
the number small, my friend.
We wear our feelings on our faces-
dead to selves again.
We drift along
in steady song
and wait for Light (it's been so long).
Waiting. Watching. Watch the skies.
Hands, feet, and constant eyes.
Our Rescue will come along,
but oh, my God, it's been so long.
We are, Forever,
Ghosts.