Snowflakes falling soft and cold,
To lay their blanket across the ground,
I trudge on, leaving footprints,
To be covered by the snow again.
No one sees me cast my shadow,
As I glide through the mists of time,
No one sees me come or go,
No one knows who or what I am.
I am mystery, I am enigma,
I am a secret left untold,
No one knows of my existence,
I am life without a soul.
Trust the rain to wash away my memory,
Trust the sun to melt my conciousness,
Only the moon is a friend to guide me,
As I flit among the shadows, unawares.
A fleeting glimpse is all I am,
A mere moment of thought to you,
A whisper of wonder in your ear,
A shrug of your shoulders and I'm gone for good.
You can never be certain of my reality,
You will never be sure that you even saw me,
Some people would call me a shadow person,
But no one will trust their authority.
I've been called a ghost, called a bodach,
I have been called the bogeyman,
I've been called a spectre, called a spook,
A restless spirit who stalks the land.
I have even been called a figment,
Of over indulgent imagination,
A mental deformity of perceptual vision,
A common symptom of hallucination.
I leave you clues but you cannot read them,
I show you energy from my orbs,
They occupy your attention,
While I give you fear to absorb.
You know not of where or whence I come,
But you feel the shivers from my cold,
And still you wonder what I really am,
I am life without a soul.
borloff
