The Unsigned Writer

Solid At Last

Poetry By, J. M. Lilin

Do you know that each person has more than one ghost?

A ghost for each day, a ghost for each month, and a ghost for each year.

Places that you have seen and people you have met, hours you will remember most.

They fade from your mind while an orb separates from your soul and leaves a ghost far, yet near.

To step through the surface and experience each expression seems impossible but to remember with a haunting.

If you flipped into that mindset, you would see the canvas of a willow tree.

Like the skeleton of a loved one, only eerie ropes to represent what we are remembering.

If only we could understand why we have these ghosts; if only the melody was what we could see.

For a million thoughts come from a million ghosts and deranged sidewalks lead the way.

The way that leads us to be among the insane on the sidewalk – on the path to the past.

Fading time and the tick of minds setting out for their final say.

Once we find our moment, who we are, maybe we will end the creation of ghosts and become solid at last.

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