“Hello darkness, my old friend.  I've come to talk with you again, because a vision, softly creeping, left its seeds while I was sleeping, and the vision that was planted in my brain still remains, within the sound of silence…”
                                                                                                   -- Simon & Garfunkel

Of Light and Shadows

I’ve stared out windows day in and day out for so long, wondering what life would bring if I could only be a thin vapor of the potential.

Wasting away in a daily grind, losing track of the time and all that surrounds me, until I wake up one day in a strange land of chalk and shadows, outlines of what once was.

And even then it was nothing inspiring, but now it's downright unenlightening as these shadows wander, freely making waves, but nothing real.

I rise up and leave, taking great pains to avoid all of them, for I do not want to be seen and forced into contact where the shadows can play folly with my soul.

As I cross the street, sudden strikes of lightning hit every spot but mine and from that safe place I watch the shadows fall to their knees in tears, wailing about the life they live, wondering why they cannot find a way more real and true.

Then it slaps me in the face, like a mirror, that I am no different, a pale shadow of what I could be, and I fall down dumbstruck in the circumstance.

I find myself on my knees asking for a favor from a reality I don't really know, but truly want to see, and it’s in that moment that a vision comes clear of a place where two people meet.

It’s like the feeling I get when I walk through a forest with birds singing, water trickling, and sunlight filtering in through the trees, and there's just enough character to the place to make me grasp that there's more to the walk than just me.

I reach out for the fingertips of another and just barely brush them, feeling places awaken inside me, a truer yearning for love, an innocent friend with qualities unknown but contemplated.

And then I pull back in the sudden terror of my exposure, for fear that it's not real, that I'll be misunderstood, not loved in return, and it all starts to leave.

I cry out wanting it to come back, but the vision dissipates and I feel so worthless for foiling an image of something so pure.

Kneeling there in the middle of the street I realize that each bolt of lightning is a catalyst, for the shadows suddenly look more real and I see definite features to each of them.

Stumbling to my feet I start to step around them, but suddenly one is lying there sobbing for all that she's never been and I cannot help but feel all the sadness inside of me well to the top and spill out around me like it's tearing me apart and every sad thing of a lifetime comes to mind.

Tears streaming, I scream at the top of my lungs, reaching out with every fiber of my being toward something that I can’t quite grasp, as though it would somehow grasp me instead.

Then a glow begins and I feel a warmth inside, filling all the hollow spots with a brighter view.

I see birds and trees and sunlight dancing, and the street is now a winding path leading through the forest, and yet she is still there upon the ground sobbing.

Suddenly all I ever wanted leaves with the awareness that all I can be is right before me.

Reaching down, I brush my fingers along her arm and slip my hand in hers to bring her up to face me.

"I thought you left," she says, as I wipe the tears from her face and tell her, "No,” and with an honest grin that’s spent a long time waiting, I add, “I won't hide anymore."

She smiles in a way that sees right through me, knowing me better than I know myself, but we are nonetheless grateful for the moment, talking about all things real and all things true as we stroll along the path of light and shadows.

(Written by Bob Devine.  This work is freely shared and not for sale)