Ghosts - Assemblage 23

A thousand footsteps without direction

Adrift like snowfall from winter skies

Aimless parades of burning ambivalence

Selling false hope in certainty’s guise

Living and breathing in sorrow’s colossus

The teeming masses await a reply

Hoping for something that tastes of deliverance

Waiting for answers to fall from the sky

Are we just living ghosts

Waiting to be freed?

Stuck at a tipping point

We never dare exceed

And what if no one comes

To liberate our souls?

And all of this is all there is

To make us whole?

Hidden meanings extracted from vagaries

Fruitless missives predicting an end

Mere conjecture impersonates prophesy

Finding doom in every change of the wind

Inside a culture of spiritual violence

Demons singing like creatures of light

Smiling faces awash in hypocrisy

Vending salvation that no one invites

Are we just living ghosts

Waiting to be freed?

Stuck at a tipping point

We never dare exceed

And what if no one comes

To liberate our souls?

And all of this is all there is

To make us whole?

A thousand questions in search of an answer

Seeking a meaning in creation’s design

A futile wish for an order in randomness

A certain outcome to which we’re resigned

Reaching skyward in hope of protection

Leading the weak to the feet of the strong

Unanswered prayers suggest the conclusion

That all we think we know is probably wrong

Are we just living ghosts

Waiting to be freed?

Stuck at a tipping point

We never dare exceed

And what if no one comes

To liberate our souls?

And all of this is all there is

To make us whole?