Miniature folds casting giant streaks elephantine
along the white ridges of a sheet, a dark alley serpentine
morphing seamlessly into abrupt sands of shifting time
when the folds move (courtesy) wind or mood
shadows from a cotton mountain range, a long thin line
Phantasmal glow of luminous arcs , fading, cascading
projecting on ceilings and walls
ghost of mute cars, passing a bend, reflecting from corners afar
only at night do you see them stand out
in a caliginous room, emphasized by an obscure light spout
a thin reed of life, the dark that hangs on to
a bleak bar of light, to wake the shadows on cue
hidden in the umbra, they stay dead
strike a match, they're hungry to be fed
Dark replicas or fuzzy blurs
reflections in black
that don't stare back
often honest, yet seldom what they seem
ubiquitous shadows, invisible in dreams
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