I see the dead,
I see more than those who live,
More words I have spoken
As more interesting are the dead
Then you or those that live.

The departed have more to say,
As I talk to those long dead,
They understand my loneliness,
As they wonder with out purpose.
They explain how they lost their way.

So many secrets have dead told,
Long forgotten things,
Which I have written down.
They whisper in my ears
They sit down and talk.
I wish I was one of them,
The freedom I would feel.

I see the quiet ones,
Those with out voices,
Point to where they wish me to go.
Secrets buried,
Lives lost that must be told.
I speak to the dead,
And their stories must be told.