Shadows…

a song of middle-aged angst

…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
without the consequence of caring
or of sharing…

Each shade real only to itself,
plays out its game
with shadow pieces–
itself is played,
mislaid,
and never knows.

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


_{1981 CL Redding}