Ghosts Of Our Former Selves

I’m but a soul and a purpose, so brittle and aware
By the wayside I lie, dangerously
Close to the plummeting into the void
And fading from the communal
Eye and out of the private mind
This is the terror, the sound of the forgotten
Release your grasp on the
Bygones and embrace the morality

An awakening to the senses
And a view of an alternate reality.
Paralleled with the shames and regrets
Of a laborious and empty finality
I pass into the nothingness knowing less
Than is inherent.
In the heat of this transition, it all becomes
Apparent

We are all ghosts of our former selves
An ill forgotten reflection
A semblance of our path to now
A spirit shedding skin
A sense of renewed capacity
A rebirth with an old chain
A rusted burden with no viability

This distinction between the lifeless and gone,
Comes at a price that cannot be restored
A piece of you must die an agonizing ruin,
To survive and to prosper
A fleeting instance to renounce and for compunction
A flouting silence washes over as I come undone
A shifting veracity disregards the hesitations
A flawless reality now defunct, the olden cries of time!

Transpire anew, with a vigor and a drive
All of the expectations that burdened our pitiful lives
Tossed aside and left to rot, in hopes of progression
No interment for the fallen to avert slow digression
I set my gaze behind the veiling fog
I see that nothing is coherent
Then ahead I find a thriving course
And once again it becomes apparent
I must let go to let live