Do they float in the ether, always just out of grasp? Do they settle in the soul like a stone?
They aren't much help; I know that. They're not there when you want them and hang around far too long when you don't.
I need to reimagine them, to take away their power. To see them as a pleasant landscape or as old books on library shelves, friends we don't yet know but hope to meet someday.