Reflection of the Dark

Past the veil are shadows known,
Alive despite intention.
Without denial they exist,
Beyond mere recognition.
Yet these dark imprints signal not,
Imperative malevolence.
Sometimes darkness is the impetus,
Of serene nostalgic silence.
And while discerning which of these,
Awaits us at the thought,
We may find solace knowing that,
Villains tarry not,
In queries of the should-haves,
Or repentant genuflect,
Our heart exposed, amidst our woes,
A longing to be blessed.

The Constant Shadow

Ascending from the cave,
I spy a shadow of former self.
A marionette without a sound,
Of hope and peace bereft.
And thus begins the shadow’s rise,
Engulfing my firm-footed base.
“Do not look back”, my sullen heart cries,
“And be doomed a pillar of waste.”
And so I shut my eyes,
Letting memory thus replace,
And dare not to dwell upon the past,
That these encounters be met with haste.
But I did see one thing I cannot put away,
A chip upon my shoulder,
That I noticed still remains.
It seems beyond position,
Or stature socially,
I have always felt subject,
And hindered by frailty.
In youth, I feared authority
As authority, I was intense,
As employee, I feared the manager
As manager, I feared impotence.
And thus the cycle continues,
I am constantly afraid.
Over, under, forward, behind,
Unsettled and dismayed.
I must attempt to break,
And shatter this illusion,
That my circumstances decide,
My attitude, is a delusion.