Shadowed

I'm willowy, slender in comparison
when the sun rises, making the sky a rosy pink
I watch her awaken, escape the paradisiacal realm of dreams
with great reluctance; see her face being bathed
by sunlight--the very reason I exist

As the hours elapse, as she lives longer,
as the gentle sun showers life above ours heads,
she grows in height; I shrink relentlessly, overshone by the power
of her escalating spirits, which enlarge with the day
and its limited number of seconds

I trail behind her--soft, clandestine,
entangled at a point, letting our souls bloom forth
in opposing directions; she extends into the golden, shining world,
I descend into the darkening floor, the frenzied fragments
that create a sheltered dome of neglect

As the sun curtails its intensity, a benign hue,
I grow again--an endless, circular sphere of life and death
Her movements become slower, fatigued by seventeen hours of
circular motion, for she returns to the exact same place
every single day of every single year

I seek her attention; I prance about in glorious
steps, yet too monotonous for her selective taste; she seeks the sky,
the jewels of light, the diamond clouds, the amethyst evening, the onyx night
She craves the music of the heavens, rather than the haunting tunes,
the eerie chants of the underworld

Though powerless, I protect her; I shield her from isolation,
loneliness, I ensure that even when she's alone in a deserted ruin,
not a breath being inhaled for millions of miles, not a voice, not a beating heart--
contrary to what she'd believe, she's never truly alone
for I am always there, shadowing her

As the night elongates, I do as well; when she was young
she'd be afraid of me--she'd cry out as her lissome figure would silhouette
the walls; looming out of crevices in a rivulet of darkness; she'd run to her room
not knowing that I was following her, always following her,
back to under the covers, my presence overpowering

As her table lamp dies, I do as well; for I am not an entity,
but merely a lack of glow; my substance dissipates as her consciousness does as well;
for I cannot exist without the gift of luminosity--I am only defined by what I am not... a gaping hole.
I may shadow her, but I am hopelessly shadowed... for just as I am a void without light,
I am nothing without her, and her body, and her life


(Picture taken from https://longshotsblues.wordpress.com/2013/04/27/saturday-psychedelics-chasing-shadows-deep-purple/)