Shadows

Dancing shadows-
They leap and spin around;
Thrown by lights,
They prance, unbound.

Ignited by oils of fragrance,
Little wicks in contention, burn,
Ruthless and flaming,
Camphorous mirages of a yearning.

Bokehs of light shimmer in respite,
Till you see your nightmares walk away alive.
Flashes of instinct and grays of panic,
There is always a shadow nearby.

The torches- they hunt-
They look through the Satin curtains,
Into the penumbra of your granddad's chair,
But the shadows slip and run conspicuously.

The streetlights dimly show a path,
And shadow's four follow you in parts;
They wait, in eager, fastidiously,
For the moment you walk past in a hurry.

Headlights that blind all eyes,
They cast shadows from within,
Deep into the roads of the city,
Hiding potholes of forgettable dreams.

In every light, they wait,
Ministers of souls that cannot agitate,
They cast your lies alive,
Even as your search for a comforting shade.

The darkness that possesses the glitter-
With calming hopeless fury and poise,
They record lives with a chronicler's voice,
In neat impressive slanting calligraphy.

Voiceless wraiths of all that ever was,
They scale the brinks of existence,
Like the paint on dead buildings,
Waiting to be resurrected, conceived again.


Dancing shadows-
They leap and spin around;
Thrown by lights,
They prance, unbound.



The Light Shines The Brightest