chased by hungry ghosts
even the cold wind
following him everywhere
the crisp leaves
cackling behind him
dragging him backwards
always backwards
the moaning
of the past
like a siren
in the fog

in the end he relented
and stopped all fighting
lay down and let the ghosts
catch him, let the clouds
envelope him

and in that envelopment
he dissolved
the ghosts dissolved
the cold wind turned to warm glow
and the leaves lay still
and peaceful

Ah! if only it were that easy
to rid oneself of the past.