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Lost in the Mist

Lost in the Mist

Who we are, how we know that we exist, in the contact, the life outside ourselves giving substance to the world we inhabit. The inner self that is us, our soul perhaps as was thought, the ghost in the machine more likely.


Ghost in the machine,
in the dark I hear a sound,
the tick of your heart.

The noise of the wind
carries away the slow turn
of gears winding down.

Tomorrow we will
start again, proving I am
not alone in here.