Light streams in through window panes
casting shadows on the empty floor,
as they flicker and sway in shapes untamed.
Silhouettes of unseen visitors before.
Walls that breathe in the darkness and light,
as sun beams angle-shift throughout the day
while shadows grow, shrink, twist out of sight
in ephemeral contortions.
I watch their rhythm, transfixed in awe
by their graceful, ghostly motion.
A silent show with no encore,
part of day’s fleeting devotion.
Darkness and the performance are done,
but at dawn’s light, the show begins again.
This theatre full of black shadows,
ever-changing, fluid patterns without end.
