Sometimes we are like mere ghosts of time,
present in a past that wanders through our mind.
We tick like an ancient clock,
gathering dust at a mansion place,
no purpose, no aid, just lying in a daze.
The mushy smoke, the flurry skies,
What was the fault of the moon if it couldn’t shine,
The morning haze falls upon one and all,
No black no white, simply on all.
The first word, the first action
No thought given, no desire held behind
Now we await to cleanse it all,
But slowly it fades from our heart & mind
Dear one up there,
Why is everything made in such a way,
Tell me, are you one of us alike,
or do you reside in the heavens up above the skies?
Were we planned or merely your vision one time?
Then why do we walk here like we own every piece of your land.
Sometimes I wonder what our purpose to be here is?
To work, to earn, to fight, to learn?
But as I reach to the last drag of my joint,
I blow a ring around the moon in the sky, thinking,
Sometimes we are just like mere ghosts of time,
present in a past that is fading with time!