Therapy Bits

A soul drifts softly through the night,
A spark of warmth, a thread of light.
It hums of dreams that once were near,
Of love remembered, faint yet clear.

The spirit rises, wild and free,
It dances with the endless sea.
No walls can hold, no chains can bind,
It lives in heart, in breath, in mind.

But the ghost walks paths of shadowed gray,
Lost between the night and day.
It echoes whispers time forgot,
Of things once done, of things once not.

Three names we give the unseen most—
Soul, spirit, and the lingering ghost.
Each tells of life, of death, of flame,
Yet all, in truth, are much the same.

Three Things Challenge #MM229 | pensitivity101