Shadows linger in my mind
as they finger my years.

It seems Time is not forever.
How came spirits into earthly flesh?
Do not speak to me of human-based myths.
There is no certainty, there, except death.
My thoughts are ruled by the darkened Moon...

But I digress.

There comes a time in years
when flesh becomes aware of flesh.
In all its imperfections. Senses
its ending, its passing and failings.
And its shadows…

Is intelligence remiss?
To have lost authored knowledge?
Did we choose, in another place,
to be put on this Earth?
For our own personal edifice?
And will we find ourselves, again,
once we die?

Shadows finger my mind,
relentlessly, telling me I am blind.

My shadows? Or Time’s?

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 7/14/04