Do you ever think back to past encounters and wonder why it is that you remember? Was there reason for their presence, intention in encounter and a happening? Why are some remembered—from only a few, brief and seeming inconsequential life-seeings—while others, known and relatively close to for years, pass from mind and spirit?
Is there a purpose we perceive, meaning that we missed, or is it all caprice of consciousness; and are we fools to muse?
Of all the grace and kindness we receive—why do instances stand out? Is it the act itself, life-stage of the happening, or a greater something—of communion or intimacy—toward a spirit that is compassionate to ours? What is to the Wonder that makes us wonder?
Do those in memories ever return, crossed and interwoven again into presence and meaning within our living? Or are they only ghosts: memory-visions of another we failed to fully perceive and will never learn again?
I think to someone I once knew and made we want to speak. For a time, in written words, I did and gained something from the share.
I know little of their life today—where they are or what they do (I knew little of them then).
Still, I pray their happiness because my soul is such inclined.
After, I leave the ghost alone: wonderings without answer.