There are ghosts in every hallway In every room, behind every door Peering through every window into the past Holding onto us in the bitterness of the mire Leaving a trace of themselves in the spaces in which they hide ...but there are no ghosts here... There are gods in the wake of every flame The fire that betroths the coldness of the void In every wind, every tempest, and every snowfall In every silence Inside every root that reaches deep into the soul of the Earth ...but there are no gods here... Shadows paint the dusk Ghosts rise from the flames To set alight in the fields In robes of smoke and spirit aligned
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