The sun descends, a fiery pyre,
And darkness creeps, consuming fire.
But in its wake, a form takes hold,
A silent echo, stark and bold.
The shadow falls, a mimic's art,
A twisted form of what we are.
It stretches long, a reaching hand,
A fleeting guest in shifting sand.
On sunlit walls, a playful trace,
A dancing sprite, with fleeting grace.
In moonlit nights, a haunting guise,
A whispered secret in disguise.
They cling to corners, dark and deep,
Where secrets hide, and shadows sleep.
A canvas vast, for fear to paint,
A chilling form, a whispered taunt.
But shadows hold a hidden light,
A counterpoint to day's bright might.
They speak of depth, and things unseen,
The unseen world, that lies between.
So let them dance, these fleeting forms,
A constant dance in sun and storms.
For in their depths, a truth resides,
The darkness holds, where light confides.
About the Creator
Moharif Yulianto
a freelance writer and thesis preparation in his country, youtube content creator, facebook
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