Shadows on the Wall

Body black and born of fire, he flits
And flickers and folds. His step without
A sound, his sight without a gaze, he sweeps
And strides across the floor. As he dances,
Forward and back, he bends
Over the floor and stretches

To the ceiling. Where I walk,
He follows. Where I march,
He meets me, ever a copy
Cast by the candle. Faithful

But flat and fleeting;
For as the wick withers
And the fire fizzles,
The figure falls into darkness.


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