He stood there seemingly just a shadow of himself,
they were all just shadows.
They moved this way and that,
collided, with an appearance of touching; moved on.
What does one shadow say to another?
Shady things that hide clarity.
They say I am tired, I am young, I am old,
I am lacking light.
Casting shadows in every direction,
as, self luminously, light shines.
There are no shadows without light;
all darkness? Merely shadows.
And light when it meets itself?
Just shines, and knows.
David Taylor
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/shadows-of-myself/
