Staring at my Shadow, as if staring, eyes naked, at the sun – a star wrapped in deep dark. In a moment, all hypocrisy subsides, all duplicity. Yes. Indeed you and me are one. Those eyes seem familiar, a face that I have seen before, somewhere.
Heads or tails? It doesn’t matter, as long as we are the two sides of the same coin. In dance, partners pull themselves closer and then push each other away only to pull each other even closer. So it is with you and me. The movement of your feet has become my heartbeat, our strings resonate.
Up is meaningless without down. You have come a long way, all the way here, and yet a truth as simple as this has eluded you. So you had to learn it, again and again, its knowledge being carried away by a cart of invisible horses.
How did I forget? How do I make myself remember? Not to make that mistake again… Do I tattoo it on my palms and the back of my hands so that everyday I will look at it? Still I will forget.
And burn again. The cycle, born in the dead of winter, begins anew. Ice follows hail, only to be melted away by the sun. And then, having reached its zenith, the sun of man goes mad, demanding worship. That is why it must set. Again.
Close your eyes. Only then might there be a place in your world for hope and faith. When you never have to look at your own shadow. But you cannot remain blind forever, the icy hand of life running up your spine.