are we ghosts?
transparent beings
disowned by
the limits
we place on our senses, the
visions we refuse?

land and sky
merge with horizon
in the gap
that opens
between beyond belief and
what we think we know

we impose on our
become lost–
we are neither thought nor form–
only illusion

matter has
its own time, not ours
to possess–
and spirit?
who can contain what is not
there, yet everywhere?

The NaPoWriMo prompt for the day was to “write a poem based on a book cover“, with a link to a very appealing group of old book covers posted at The Public Domain Review, which is always a great source of inspiration. There were many that appealed to me. I ended up writing a shadroma chain to the cover, above, Andrew Lang’s. The Book of Dreams and Ghosts. I am interested to know what is inside the book as well.

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