There’s a slight breeze
in the hall where I sit
staring out through tinted windows
Into the openness that is so natural.
I see the reflections of people
passing behind me as ghosts
their stories and lives
trailing behind them in wisps
like smoke or fine dust blown.

Not a word is shared
among these transparent strangers
because language is locked
deep within our minds,
held prisoner, barred for safety
against new experience
and countless Unkowns.

© J. Bernhard

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