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Ghosts have no color.Author's Notes
No one can see them
Floating in the sky,
Swimming through the ground.
Ghosts have no shape.
No one can feel them
Knocking things over,
Scaring people to death.
Ghosts have no size.
No one can stop them
By fencing them out
Or walling them away.
Ghosts have only death.
No one can keep them
From sharing it with everything:
Plants, animals, people.
This poem came out of the July 2011 Muse Fusion. It was inspired by a prompt from Deirdre M. Murphy, and posted as this session's freebie.
In the Empire, the Others are known only as anomalies, ghosts, wraiths, or other terms in local folklore. Nobody really understands them or can see them. So the strange phenomena they cause get lumped in with other bits of mythology, superstition, and inexplicable events. So this poem has some truthful parts and some phantasmagorical parts. It's hard to render something perfectly when you can't see it!
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