the vestige of a ghost

The vestiges of the ghosts .. there is still something there in the darkness that I see. Maybe it is a reflection or the image that they say is in one’s soul. I’m not sure what a soul is most days, or that perhaps I am the one of all and the one in all, just as you and yet distinguished or distinguishable. A perishable body inside an enduring being where one is still not without the other in such an arrangement that one would give the other life, a signature so as to sign something with, and retell the space that it would move only slightly in those ways.

When in talking to the space, it is helpful to remember the soft ways it speaks, and the stillness of a speed that moves only before your eyes and is registered by the subtle pulse of a heart. I’m not sure the point exactly, the point of leaving where the bearing breaks and the tension relieves itself, going in different ways. Sometimes we die before we do, the body still walking, and the other has gone and left. I felt that from you.

You were gone, and it wasn’t in the unanswered text messages, and it also was, that the absence lingered more than the presence, and after four years together and a year of silence time melded into that which didn’t turn with hands. So maybe in it, back to space sent, the space from, we here we, from, and we came, that there we find it again, and there is no face to it. The personality of a person is left at the door, and there is an energy, that signature again, though it has been blended with the colors of other cards so that you can make it out ever so slightly talking to the thing that is nothing and yet within it, is there.

copyright 2018 ⓒ / forrest gallagher