By Badak Yomgam
It's hard to speak of my Shadow's art,
A mirrored self, yet opposite apart.
Love, Pain, it doesn't know their sway,
Intangible, a phantom of the day.
No soul, no form, a presence undefined,
A Silent echo, close but left behind.
Never speaking never hearing sound,
A faithful shadow, ever close around.
Some fear of the dark, the light they solely seek,
Bound to the sun, their truth they weakly speak.
A metaphor, my shadow, I confess,
A Silent witness, a forgottenness.
Do we need this constant, ever nearby?
Even lifeless things, a shadow they do bear.
A universal right, this form unseen,
Until our end, our constant, dark between.
Sometimes a partner, walking side by side,
A bow together, as the world we hide.
Alone I stand, the world we hide.
My shadow watches, through the darkest caves.
A Silent witness, to my joy and pain,
Sometimes I miss it, in the pouring rain.
How can I tell you, Shadow, how I feel?
You are my own, a truth that's ever real.