Shadows

Shadows are the eulogy to physicality

That consumes the dark in solidarity

They sit, dance, rise and fall

They don’t echo, but they express a lot

 

Shadows are dark hollows of ourselves

Reflecting the contours of our exterior

They cite another story unknown to us

That the body can also be a work of art

 

Shadows are the teachers of creativity

Helping us to learn the craft with sincerity 

A peacock, a butterfly or a heart

They create a plethora of possibilities

 

Shadows never grow old

They are the wrinkles of our reflection

Giving us the sweet and sour taste of life

As time passes by, they remain still and quiet

 

 Shadows are spineless without light

Their existence is futile without it

It’s the bright rays that enlighten them

Makes them an object of admiration