Ghosts Don't Know Poem by Mark Heathcote

Of course, ghosts don't know
where they're headed; it's like-we-sleepwalking.
Why they were somehow, waylaid
look sees they just-don't-know
why-they-were-even...born.
Why they die. Why they were given a life.
Ghosts don't even know that much about life
they get up and go out about their ghostly business
yes, it's a daily chore, but someone has got to do it.
Yes, they go around feeling empty & neglected
of course, ghosts don't know just why they also exist,
any-differently from us, to them it's all-natural…
To us… We call it supernatural, and to an atheist
it's just another hazy drunken Saturday night
in the wee small hours still snoozing on a market stall.
Whilst desperately trying to make sense of nothing at all.