…shifting, drifting airs with faces
and imaginary graces
but never firming to the touch…
Are you a shadow?
Am I?
Would you have me real?
Or I, you?

Shadows cast no pain, no joy.
Their suffering is not real,
their fading glamor,
passing clamor,
not much to be wondered at.
They neither harm nor charm,
passing through one another
with no consequence of caring
or of sharing.
Each shade real only to itself
plays out its game
with shadow pieces;
itself is played,
and never knows.

There is in Reality much joy
to be won or to be lost.
I would not play Reality
with just anyone.


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