Ghost From the Fugue

I am present.
I used to be lost in the fugue of fumes,
but now I appear like a ghost
from the particles of fog.

I resent the idea
that I had disappeared.
Yet, I did,
and, better still, now I haunt.

I am transported by will,
transported by the foot of my soul.

Better still, now I haunt.

Photo by Martino Pietropoli on Unsplash


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