Shadows Are Me

SHADOWS ARE ME I am there, but I am not. I seem to be, but how could I? I am my pain, which can’t be seen. A shadow of yesterday, smoke in your eye. My words are the wind. My wishes but a one-liner. Can I really walk through walls? Unseen, unheard, totally unascertained? And this is not a lament. For I wish not be seen. Or heard, or felt, or regarded. It is okay to be a shadow, a sheen on a screen. An expanse full of souls. A blank soul without contour. Words that cannot be discerned. A presence, that by essence, needs a Yom Kippur. But there is no atonement. No redemption for my being. Just remain an opaque shadow. I tell my soul: you are not what they are seeing. You are already an adumbration. No need to find a corner to hide. You already lack attention, admiration. No need to hide or be stealthy soul of mine.