She’s lost, though here – already gone
When you embrace her, you embrace the air
Who she is, who she was – what does it matter?
Her laugh is a memory, her presence helps not
She was never here, it’s just an illusion
We tell ourselves: she’s really here!
Be that as it may, she wills to not.
She was born the slave of another
Loosen the reigns? He will not.
Though you try, though you cry,
Your prayers fall on deaf ears – so it seems, anyway
Your God is listening, but forces none
She must see, she must believe
She can’t see: she’s fading away
Though here, she’s really not.
‘Tis a memory, she sees it not.
She races to and fro, she loves and shares
Yet living, she’s certainly a ghost
For what is her existence but a memory?
Though she’s now, soon she’s past
Forever gone, forever lost
A creature made in the likeness of her creator,
Made to be, rather than be not
She chose to not, she chose to live
But wouldn’t see in living, she was really not
Now you have eternity to forget:
She was there, though she was not
From my book, "Aimless Wanderer"