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Chasing Shadows
Bathed in light from a nearby streetlight, the figure appears almost human. Its sickly pale skin shone luminescent in the harsh fragile light that threw back upon the worn street a lucid obsidian shadow. The shadow moved upon the graffiti strewn walls in an intoxicating dance, teasing the onlooker in a merciless rhythm. I sit crouched amongst the dry sand and debris and look, but what I see disappoints me, nothing but the cracked shell of life that has been and gone. My dismal hopes become dashed like the waves that pound the heavy rocks at the water’s edge. I sit and think of that infinite stretch of endless blue. Gazing out into the horizon standing on that beach, there are no shadows, no empty lives. But I am not on that beach dipping my toes into the ice-encrusted waves or sitting staring at a moonlit sky. Here the moon is dead. Blocked out by the reality of civilization, it sits watching, creating shadows for me to chase. But not the one I search for. My shadow is gone. It has left me, deserted me like the dreary wanderers who leave their home to search for new meaning. Is that where it has gone? Has it left me to find another? Does it tire of my ways? My regrets and choices haunt even me.
The figure now moves into the darkness. No longer being lit by the shining lights it appears sunken into the depths of the deepest ocean. Secrets buried there never resurface. I am expecting him to do the same. He will disappear again and I will never lay my cold sullen eyes upon him, never argue upon his needs. I peer into the darkness. Will I follow into that endless night, that rambling jungle from which travelers never return? Do I dare? I pause caught in the moment, fear rising in my mind. I inch forward and follow the figure into that building of mystery. He is testing me I know. I know this in the far reaches of my mind and I am afraid. To conquer a fear, to unravel a mystery must surely be worth the risk. How else can I discover where the road leads? I need to find this man, this figure, for he is but my shadow, my mirror. Why has he left me? Why has he gone from me? Who am I without him? These questions I cannot answer. My mind humming with thoughts that pound relentlessly upon its shores. I reach out and almost touch the figure. He turns to me and I can see his eyes. They fill me with malice and anger. Memories fight to overwhelm me, for never have I seen such peace, such truth. The figure mocks me. His eyes daunting and blue. Blue as the waters of that ice encrusted beach they shine like diamonds upon the silken sands. For a moment, I am speechless. This is what I wanted, what I have come for.
I reach out again in a vain attempt to stop the figure. My hands hit air, my fingers splicing the midnight light like a surgeon with a blade. Those eyes stare and stare, mocking me, for I cannot have them again. The figure is leaving, the darkness overcoming him, as that violent sea threatens to swallow him. And it does, leaving me with those dancing eyes, little more then a shadow, my shadow. I shut my eyes blocking out the stabbing pains of betrayal as the waves of addiction threaten to overwhelm me. Why has he left me again? I looked for him for so long. I am tired now, languid and weak after searching. I slump down my back sliding against the rough exterior of the fence, its coarse metallic chains bruising my flesh. I sit and cradle my head in my arms and I cry. I cry tears of nothing, thick heavy weights that slide down my red cheeks.
The eyes are gone now. Will I search again? This I do not know. My tired body becomes drugged in out right refusal. I give in to the music it plays, satisfy the need, it asks and I do.
My shadow, that figure, now gone from my mind. It is now but a blur in the distance, a chance I have once again lost. Never again will I be this close to catching him. I leave the desolate alley and wander a broken road. As I pass an empty store, the tall glass windows like sails on a boat show me my reflection. I peer into my ruined face and for a moment, I see those eyes in mine. For just a moment, they are once again my eyes, as blue as the water and just as magical. For a moment, I am reminded of who I was, who I still want to be.
A car passes by throwing blue and red light onto the window rippling my hopeful image. I turn and pull my hood down over my head as a man in crisp uniform hues passes by, my face lost in dark oblivion, my identity lost.
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Never underestimate the power of denial.
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A flower may be beautiful all on its own,but a person is never truly beautiful unless someone's eyes show him that he is beautiful. (Incubus Dreams ..Laurell K Hamilton)
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