Transparency

“Always trust ghosts,”
I can remember someone telling me.
“They’re never dishonest.”
At the time, I had considered it
A piece of misguided advice;
I’d never met one after all.

There must be a word
For the kind of lost we all are,
But for the life of me (no pun intended)
I cannot think of the right one.

As I walk, or rather, drift
By faces and bodies, moving busily
From one place to another,
I am reminded of the life I once had.
I had a family, I think,
And a name long since forgotten.
I felt the sweat of an Indian summer
And wept when I felt pain.
Now… the salt of tears past are
All the memories I have.

The whole damned world
Makes a ghoulish horde,
Wandering aimlessly across
Seas and mountains;
Not dead, not quite alive.
A billion different souls
Asking the same question.

MSBQ

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