Etching mime and constructing time, frozen
Words between the lines, haven created
In sunset’s glow, beckons with fiery show;
Shadowland devours all colors of rhyme.

Scratching at doors, shadows devour, craven,
The gloom implores, tip-tapping at eye’s mind,
The cringing kind, sinuously bestowed,
Shadowlands acceptance yields phantom time.

Reaching towards foggy throne, frostbit driven,
Hands break into shards, refracting truth told,
Reminders, icy wind begins to blow;
Shadowland encircles falseness of mime.

Beseeching recedes brief vestige of sight,
Converting heartbeat to shadowland’s light,

The knowledge brings no perspective demand,
Ego still plans to enter shadowed lands.

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 10/21/03