Are we ghosts?

Ghosts whisper on the evening wind,

They are the blurred faces of distant times,

Their energy spent, locked in hollow places,

Existing, not knowing that their time has passed,

Sometimes doors are locked that shouldn’t be,

There are times when we move unnoticed,

Moments when we’re not acknowledged,

Have we passed from the memory of others?

How can we be sure that we’re not a ghost?