Ghosts

"Do you believe in ghosts, sir?"

"Oh yes," the man said, nodding emphatically. "All of us are ghosts primarily, comprised more of spirit than of skin, ethereal more than physical. We wear our bodies like a wrinkling cloak, stretched tightly around our selves. But the bulk of our mass is an invisible hulking phantom, burdened with a purpose too dreadful to face, too delightful to taste. Human flesh cannot bear it."

"I do not understand."

"That is understandable, your experience of reality is confined by your body to this... plane. On the top side of the iceberg sight boasts great knowledge. Underneath? The greater reality is shrouded in a cold darkness which sight cannot penetrate."

"How can I know it if I cannot see?"

"Ah but you do know. For you have seen. You have heard. Fleeting shadows of a greater light. Silent whispers of a finer song. Fairy tales of a better country. These have been shown to you by your heart, have they not?"

The boy was silent a moment, considering. "Faintly, I think, in times of silence, of darkness. Can I hear more?"

"Until you come out, you cannot."