Ghosts

The whisper of your footsteps
trailing behind mine on this path
awakens what time has stolen from me.

Time that shapes us and
unmakes us, that breathes life into names,
that stations us, damns us,
and stirs us awake.
That time—nothing itself,
as nothing is the body.
Feelings, perceptions, the beautiful lies
of what we are,
singular and universal, consciousness unraveling.

You exist, and your being is my breath.
...and though you may never know it,
we dwell together still.