Why Do Shadows Speak?

Behind every sunrise there is a promise of a twilight,

That the giant fire welcomes the onset of the night,

And in every street stands lampposts molded to the ground,

To shine the way for folks in the darkness that surrounds.

What does it mean when my shadows speak?

Whispers of what goes in my mind as I breathe?

Of stories that are never meant to be,

Of glimpses that are never meant to see,

The light of the day just as my thoughts and reality,

Or like the parallels between chaos and serenity.

Maybe in ignorance lies the true bliss,

Not unlike the first blind kiss,

When the world to you contains all the colors of the palette,

And new avenues are in every person you have met.

But why does my shadows speak?

Of the eerie beings that creak,

All along the roads that you and I seek,

Like Dorothy and her yellow road of brick.

Maybe they are looking for the spark that is a legend,

Most known among all, but who has ever felt it in the end?

The flames most wanted, in spite of the shadows it creates,

But the spark needed is seldom found even in the closest of mates,

Prometheus brought the scared fire to humans from Olympus,

Incurring the wrath of the king of Gods as he must,

In that I believe lies our answer to the spark we seek,

To understand and listen to our shadows speak.