Our shadows are fragile yet are cast,
in its way when the light is broken..
the half of it is still light,
the other is the dark night of autumn..
Is the darkness a light ? Or the light evacuated?
Or its the light emptied from the light?
Light is white, its shadows are dark,
Black light, if is light, casts shadows of art..
dark and darker are the nights,
light when does not ignite,
in them the souls of me & you unite..
Ignoring my obligation I demand my right,
think myself a paragon of right & might..
as if among us all, I am white,
of a 'white shadow' is thus, I'm a wright,
in the light..