A Ghost's Story: Spiritual Drift
Sometimes I drift off,
far from my family's path.
Let my mind go, wander,
a stray dog off the chain.
It is easier to not think,
lost in the haze of everyday.
I just float -- listen --
lost kite with a loose string.
See others who are like me,
ghosts left on the astral plane.
Forgotten spirits, they hover,
misplaced remnants of the past.
They search for pieces,
fragments of their broken lives.
Desperately, they try to fill;
hungry, they want to eat.
They eat the joy of others,
consume strands of endless glee.
Emotions are what they want;
happiness is the most filling.
They eat and eat,
consumed by endless appetite.
But their emptiness never ends,
silent abyss at the brink.
How I watch the ghosts,
madness haunts their dreams.
An existence of damnation,
they know not the way.
Their journey is uncertain,
only the Dharma Wheel remains.
Someday, I hope,
they will find the proper track.
But as I drift in memories,
there are times I lose my path.