The name of the past flows over my lips,

an old love long bereft of life,

I walk onward along this road,

I am not alone though no one is here.

Alone, is like a swear word to me,

never shall i be that way,

for always they are with me,

ever watchfull, ever knowing

Never quiet.

The ghosts of the past

do not lie in wait for us to join them

they are here with us,

watching, guiding...

There is no forbidden place for them

they shall be forever carefull

forever they shall wander beside us,

it is we that wait to join them.

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A delicate twist on an old,

A delicate twist on an old, eerie tradition.