Our Strolling Shadows

Life is but a walk-in... Shadows, slipping

into the darkened Play, players fall in...

Every earthly medium... Parts, gearing,

for a moment, with the rolls, as given...

Clay, dust and water, molded and fired,

seen in sun's light and its denial, of form;

What deteriorates, in hues, retired...

to the busyness of brushes that swarm

In chiaroscuro: precise, unreal...

our sleeping visions, emerging from dream

as substantive, yet immaterial...

with stage fright, and silent cinema scream

The dogged wandering, of worldly Soul...

The trail of apparitions, in our role...

01.21.2024

"Life's but a walking shadow..." @dctezcan