Gray's Armory Ghosts

Gray’s Armory
By Alan States

Alone in a room,
buzzing with people I can’t quite see
My mind has gone into the past that is present in the room now
Flittering shadows, shades of white, blurred so distinctly
Ghosts, Spirits, Echoes of what was, who was.

I turn off my ears, and listen to the long unheard neverending chatter all around me.
I sneeze.
Earthbound, my soles points of contact
for a time elapsed, whose time has come
– only peering through a filmy window

An open mind is a fresh breeze airing out long dormant
green hills, epic loves, Civil Wars and American Wakes.
Stories.
I walked into the past with my senses seeking
And reeled, lost for hours in the book of what was.