Ghost Story

 

The longer I stick around
this all too fleeting life
the more the eternal mystery
begins to hound me
as friends and family
begin dropping by the wayside

Where are we all going after we’re gone?  
               
What became of feelings that once burned strong?

Can’t even recall how we got here

What actually happens when we fade out
and eventually disappear?

Time sure is a wasting on our little game

Like a candle running out of flame
on we bit players
soon to be performing without a stage

Destined to be
scraps of memory on a worn page

The moral of our stories
stares up at us from each casket face

Don't ignore life's positive possibilities
on that trip to oblivion
faced by all humanity

Regret is such a ponderous load to carry