My shadow often goes its own way.
Never so long I become a stranger,
but long enough it observes my foolish behavior.
It asked for a raise to supply its services
with the promise it would find other vacancies
if I refused this increased payment.
For my shadow, I am both its entrance and exit
into and from this nonpermanent world.
On those days my shadow
takes a shape other than my own,
it approximates God’s silhouette,
but cannot settle on male or female form.
Or human for that matter.
On the days I am my most zen,
my shadow performs a kaleidoscope of animal shapes.
On those days, I never face the sun
because I am so entranced by my shadow’s transformations.
My shadow promised me
I would understand I achieved divine clarity
when it stretched to the horizon
along the cardinal compass points simultaneously.
copyright © 2019 Kenneth P. Gurney