"A Ghost of What Once Was"
- Kriti
- Aug 31
- 2 min read
A ghost of who we once were lingers in every place, person, and memory we leave behind.
By Kriti, BA Hons Philosophy , 2nd Year

We leave fragments of ourselves in every
place we visit.
They echo softly in abandoned pits,
or lie still on the ground, breathing in the
quiet.
Some linger in the ice cream shop at the
corner of our old neighborhood,
where, as children, we chased the bells
of summer
and seized the joy of a fleeting day.
In those days, we were everything,
youthful, overflowing with dreams,
certain the world was ours to chase.
Another remnant remains in the garden
of our house,
where laughter spilled unfiltered,
and grass stains clung to our clothes,
refusing to wash away the innocence of
giggles.
Every landscape cradles a memory of
these fleeting pieces.
Some vanish into the shadows of the
forest's darkest heart,
while others drift on the humming of the
ocean's lonely tides.
Some are erased by the careless sweep
of a branch,
while others stay tucked away in the
warmth.
The scattered imprints lie across the
world,
yet a larger piece of us rests like the
ocean,
drifting, buried deep,
surfacing only when our steps falter,
when we forget the way home.
Even now, the weight of those moments
endures.
The pieces we left behind are still held by
time,
cradled in silence,
the cadence of joy reverberating in
hollow spaces.
Each fragment is a ghost of who we
once were,
longing to belong again.
Yet they return, now and then,
like reminders of how good life once felt,
and how those memories continue to
shape who we are.
Some remain in places.
Some stay with people,
carried in their quiet keeping.
And maybe, someday,
our scattered pieces will come together
again.
Even if the rain dances upon the land,
or the moon blooms in laughter,
even when the sun shines its brightest,
every remnant will become solace in
endless hurdles.
To live each moment,
to admire our traces,
to meet new souls and bid farewells,
leaving yet another piece of our own
tucked into the corners of their hearts.
Comments