Of Shadows and Flowers

A dozen or so shadows dance around a light.
They resemble the human form we all share
But somehow appear mystical. I watch in awe
As their carefree steps meet. Could I dare
To have what they do? Fears escaping sight.

I inch closer towards the light and tremble with visible anticipation
Showing in my movements, a path to my creation and destruction.

All the shadows are so pretty. Why can’t I be that way?
If I was a flower I’m one of those overused and left on graves
Because they’re only pretty when left to wither. The bells
Ring in the birth and death of everything they ever knew.
So how long will these flowers be beautiful? Withering
Away before they ever find their way. Yeah, I’m the same.

Watching the other flowers blossom from a distance;
The dancers reveling in the light. A form of self torture
Leaving me unsure that I even exist at all. What stance
Should I take if I’m the sickness craving for my own cure?

I start to inch away from the light and relinquish anticipation
From my movements, a path towards my self reconstruction.

Close my eyes and let go of what can’t be mine today.
I miss out on life by thinking about what can’t be changed.
It can’t be changed because what I have is my life
And I can’t take what isn’t mine. I’m simply a human being
Trying to find a way through life’s uncertainty. The light
Starts flickering until it’s gone and so are the shadows.

So long did I envy what I couldn’t be until I saw what I truly was. . .



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