Shadows

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.