Death can be sought, it can be fought,
but it can not be avoided.
Everything has a time, a place
to let go of the cruel touches of this world.
Let all the strings that bind them to life be cut,
and leave all the things that make life worth living behind.
When you finally let go you feel a certain peace within.
A peace that spreads throughout you whole body and soul.
It takes hold and leads you to the place where you can finally rest.
For those who have a hold that is strong enough to last through death
they remain behind. They float through the material world an invisible force. Ghosts. The images of what is to come for those who are not yet gone. The parts of the dead souls that have a pull toward someone living. Forever attached, forever trapped in continuous motion until that someone faces their death. Only then can the Ghosts and the people who had claim on them can rest. Death can be sought, it can be fought, but it can not be avoided. Everything has a time, a place to let go of the cruel touches of this world.
Cait Whisler
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-ghosts-of-death/
