Shadows Burn Bright


What man cannot contain he must express:
His shadow cast no one may long suppress.
O Light, how close I long to draw near thee,
and closer drawn, my darkness there to flee—
Horror, to my surprise, my hope a lie,
the closer to the light the blacker my
own shadow grows, and grander silhouettes
there multiply. These dread marionettes
with mocking motions tied to mine behind
me dance, and I, their puppet sure, do find
no hope to break their charms; nor they break mine.
Thus locked, facets unto one stone, this sign
all histories and melodies pervade:
Between the twain the form of life is made.

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