Being the Non-Being

     Once I was capable of emotion and action -- they were

snuggled nicely within my heart-pumping, brain-thinking body.

Now those feelings, sensations, and movements are very distant.

My life has since faded into the colorless fog of death.

     Being a ghost is like being a cold rock buried in the earth. It’s

dark. It’s still. Movement occurs when something else moves

you— like a mother’s tear dropping through the ghost of her son,

moving him down in the wake of it’s path, settling him on the floor

around a warm splash of sadness.

The End

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