We march through life, so oblivious;
thinking that everything matters;
yet, the truth is somewhat incidious;
our fragile existance, it shatters.
We dwell in a sense of permanence;
thinking this life won’t end;
gaining comfort from our ignorance;
then hoping another will begin.
Many believe, as they leave death’s door,
that they will return as a ghost;
inhabiting a house on another floor;
as a fog-like heavenly host.
Just such a ghost, already exists;
within all scrapbooks and every memorial;
its memory and vanity, stubbornly persists,
within each living tutorial.
Most think this life is merely a mist;
a morning fog, that disolves and dies;
in sadness, most such thoughts, we resist;
surely death; only to others, applies.
Life isn’t really a physical being;
it’s a ghost wave of energy, instead;
the body is about hearing and seeing;
the soul lives by thought, when dead.
Our soul constantly ebbs and flows;
in and out of the beaches called life;
God is aware of memories and knows,
each memory is as precious as a wife.
God created man as a living memory;
the ghost of the memory to become;
destined to live throughout eternity;
to all join together as One.