You are Pascal
the ghost in my dreams,
and you are Emil
the spirit of my aspirations,
then there is Thomas
the visiting thought
that drifts uncalled into
the mystery of my being.

So here you are
a sorry bunch hiding
in the dark corners
of my mind.

Do you think Pascal
that you are wiser than me?
And you other two,
what about you?
Silence is what you are
for I know you
have answers
or none perhaps that
I could understand
And I cannot command you
though I should.