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Not here or there but somewhere else. Maybe they should be, or perhaps it is you who are missing, how would you know? Today I am thinking of ghosts of the mind, those we conjure for ourselves, when we are alone in the dark or the wide empty spaces. On the empty road and footsteps that echo after we pause, or the wind cracking branches on the high tracks, the lament of the wanderers who never came home. Maybe I just need some time to get out more ;-D

The empty road

The empty road

Quiet Stranger.

The miles away behind me are
everything. You might know I am here,
watching, though you only see

the space I once occupied,
a footprint in the frost of the morning,
a torchlight trail in the night.

I mark your track in the spoor
you leave as you travel, your scent
crossing downwind will lead me

to the life you lead. I am
the quiet stranger in the crowd,
the whisper in the empty room.

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