Shadows

People discussing them may seem out of place,
They themselves are never found out of place,
They walk with you, and run with you, all the way,
Yet they seem to vanish by the end of day.

Alive or dead, we shall always cast these aberrations,
For, of our own selves, are they not true reflections,
They change with our feelings, change like our mood,
Longer when in glee, and shorter when we brood.

When the light goes out of our dark lives,
It is not in darkness, that the shadow thrives,
It leaves you not, it just envelopes itself around you,
And walks with you, for longer than you knew.

It absorbs nothing, and it dissolves into nothing,
For it is not material, this slippery shadowy thing,
It moves against the light, like an actor in a play,
Yet that is the simplest, of the games it does play.

It is the image of the fears and troubles you carry along,
The ones that will make this journey seem more long,
And yet, it contains also the hopes of getting more strong,
To choose between the paths, right and wrong.

Dedicated to Dear brother Satyajit, who had some reservations about shadows.

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