As I loiter in the corner, watching the others floating by,
their candles cast us, in shadow before the eye
Figures mingle upon the wall, a story never told,
but that story never happened. That's why it seems so cold

Passing through one another, no contact to be employed,
until the candles are all blown out and they vanish in the void.
A single flash could return them, but they, without light at hand,
remain but shadows in the dark, trapped in no man's land.

Then the lights come on and, with hope, I look around,
but with so much light upon the walls, no shadows can be found.
The people holding candles all begin to chat and laugh,
blissfully unaware of the tragedy committed on their behalf.

The doors are thrown wide, setting loose the writhing throng,
but quickly they vanish, like the rains meant for Saint John.
I'm alone here in my corner, where I loiter on the wall
with all the other ghosts who vanish when the darkness starts to fall