Ghosts Of Our Former Selves

I’m but a soul and a purpose, so brittle and aware

By the wayside I lie, dangerously

Close to the plummeting into the void

And fading from the communal

Eye and out of the private mind

This is the terror, the sound of the forgotten

Release your grasp on the

Bygones and embrace the morality

An awakening to the senses

And a view of an alternate reality.

Paralleled with the shames and regrets

Of a laborious and empty finality

I pass into the nothingness knowing less

Than is inherent.

In the heat of this transition, it all becomes

Apparent

We are all ghosts of our former selves

An ill forgotten reflection

A semblance of our path to now

A spirit shedding skin

A sense of renewed capacity

A rebirth with an old chain

A rusted burden with no viability

This distinction between the lifeless and gone,

Comes at a price that cannot be restored

A piece of you must die an agonizing ruin,

To survive and to prosper

A fleeting instance to renounce and for compunction

A flouting silence washes over as I come undone

A shifting veracity disregards the hesitations

A flawless reality now defunct, the olden cries of time!

Transpire anew, with a vigor and a drive

All of the expectations that burdened our pitiful lives

Tossed aside and left to rot, in hopes of progression

No interment for the fallen to avert slow digression

I set my gaze behind the veiling fog

I see that nothing is coherent

Then ahead I find a thriving course

And once again it becomes apparent

I must let go to let live