A ghost is an incomplete.
A soul yearning for a body
A lover calling for a beloved.
A people searching for home.
God aching for the faithful.
All are ghost.
All are incomplete.
The world conspires against ghosts.
There is an exorcism in every corner.
Every heart struggles with its own incompletes.
At once expelling and admitting potentialities.
Humanity is a ghost.
And history is one long ghost tale.
Restless apparitions crawling, marching, running.
Entering Eden through the back door.
But fear not, for in the end all ghosts rise in the air.
And as the poet once told us
All that rises must converge.