One
Ink on paper
A momentary thought
A letter to myself
Something to remind me
It’s nothing more
Than ink on paper
You can see right through it
Not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come
A photograph
A flash of light
A slice of time
Something to remind me
Now blink, there’s nothing more
A photograph
You can see right through it
Not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come
Two
We make our ghosts along the way
Then hide them in a cardboard box
Away from today
Bound for tomorrow
Promises lost
Promises found
Promises kept
Promises bound
Bound for tomorrow
This box is filled with dust
Ink on paper
Only a photograph
Not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come
Open it wide and let them out
These promises are buried deep
Beneath the dust that clouds our memories
Robs us of our celebration
Of ghosts we’ve never known
And those who’ve yet to come
Three
These ghosts are mine
These ghosts are yours
We’ve known them for a moment
And we’ve known them for a lifetime
They make us who we are
And who we will become
Together
Our ghosts
They dance among us
They point us down a dusty path
To the left from which we came
And to the right for which we’ll go
Our ghosts are all we’ve been
And all that’s yet to come
Dance with joy
Keep them near
To remind us
To help us with our tears
And our smiles
But mostly with the life we have before us
These ghosts are mine
And yours
And ours
Open the box and let them free
A word
A picture
A card
Not a memory
But a reminder of what has passed
And what has yet to come
Let our ghosts run free
So we can be among them
And dance
And cry
And sing
And explore the world ahead of us
Together.
© Copyright 2010 Bob Kadrie, Atlanta, GA. All rights reserved.
Just beautiful. We are our ghosts. What an interesting thought.
Perfectly plucked from the deep innards of thought. Place before our wanting eyes. Eager to shed some light on the dark rocky path. Excellent word play for a rainy day. Another example of how our souls speak to us.