I can see them moving.

Like dead leaves, on a windy day.

Floating and circling all over.

Without a care in the world,

As to where they are going.

And in an instant they are gone.

But for only a second.

Then they return

They choose when to be seen.

I hear the whispers and cries.

I try to find them

But they keep moving away from me.

As I walk further into this land,

I become ill.

My body becomes weak.

I must rest.

I suddenly realize where I am.

A cemetery.

“What a convenient place to die.”

I mutter to myself.

My eyelids become heavy.

I close them.

Not knowing that would be the last time I see the world.

Through human eyes.

Now they can see me moving.

Like dead leaves, on a windy day.

Floating and circling all over.

Without a care in the world.

Because we,

Are not of this world.

Anymore.