She slips silent as a ghost among mere mortals
seeing that which all other eyes do not.
Mysterious eyes, unnaturally old,
hiding in their depths a colorful past untold.
Born with a gift like no other, very few truly
Know her.

Trapped between worlds, she longs to escape
the prison of secrecy amid the living and undead.
But to tell would mean to trust, a sense alien to such a being,
an impossible feat to one so astounding and rare.
She shies away from revealing herself to others,
knows that caring too much will break her.
The Ghost Whisperer warily keeps her distance from all who don’t truly
Know her.
Virtually invisible and silent to those around her she seems,
enemies find her a horribly clever, deadly adversary.
The demons of the Shadow World seek her end,
for the depths of Hell feast on both living and undead.
Mere mortals, oblivious to the Ghost Whisperer,
cannot begin to fathom the danger lurking in every dark corner,
Do not apprehend how fate has shone on them to be on her side,
how destiny has blessed their unconscious souls to ultimately
Know her.

She walks among the living, a jewel in a sea of limestone,
as dangerous as she is beautiful, the unknown radiating from her every stride
Secrecy surrounds the Ghost Whisperer in an obscuring veil,
the real mystery is in her true identity.
She is always near. Perhaps you feel you
Know her.

And so she walks alone, among an unsuspecting sea of earthly mortals,
unseen by all, truly known by none, trusting no one in her path.
Gentleness and deadliness reside in the same soul.
Under her watchful silver eyes, the living and undead alike exist,
in a world where the Shadows meet their match in the Ghost Whisperer.
The angel of the undead reigns, beautiful and mysterious.
Presently unaware of a peculiar presence,
only on the deathbed will every mortal,
join the undead and truly
Know her.