The Ghost of Joy
Stay out of the past, I say,
For its highways are cracked.
And its gardens are sere,
So stop looking back.
Why seek to regain lost pleasures,
To only find people as dust.
For all that was once hardened steel,
Is now oxidized rust.
Looking back, for what I ask?
At the skeleton of past hopes.
Which still linger within the mind,
And occasionally moans and gropes.
Once a place of beautiful rivers,
Replaced with stagnant slime.
Stay out of the past, I say;
Stop wasting God given time!
The past’s fires have gone cold;
Looking back, your future gets destroyed.
For when you look back to see a glimpse,
All you see is the ghost of joy.
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