A ghost hides in the shade. 

A ghost of words. Of promises. Of prayers and forgotten moments. Of paintings and violins. A ghost that faced death, and lives in memories and dusted pieces. 

It lingers. Is it awaiting? Is it seeking? Is it desiring? …
Or is it just watching, hoping to find peace in the arms of the Lord of Time, carried by the wind when the light finds the Paths again?

I pray for this ghost. For its pain. For mine. For the uncertainty. And leave it be. It is where it should be, as all things are.

But the question… that remains in the silence, maybe to never be truly uncovered, always hidden in the deviate ways and blurred lines of the now:

Who am I? 

(originally posted on  February 11, 2015)