LOST

We are hopeless, formless creatures. We hover between the barrier of Day and Night. We swirl in the skies above your roofs, powerless to descend or ascend.
Sometimes you might hear us moaning our plight at night, rustling tree leaves. At other times, we are the ill-wind that makes your life miserable. We see the vague outlines of your world, like looking through frosted glass, and we are reminded of what we once had, so we manipulate the elements against you, throwing them through the foggy barrier between us, hoping we'd smash something to pieces. Sometimes our aim is accurate, sometimes not.

There are moments when the barrier develops holes and we cross freely, dashing through to life before the hole disappears. But most of us don’t get a chance, so we howl louder above your roofs, crying for a place to go, a place to be, a place to rest; crying for home.

We are called spirits, we are stuck, we are lost and someday, you will probably join us.