direct light with dark corners on the opposite side: all across the room, illuminating & sifting the shadows back and fourth, silently. silently; the shadows crawl from thoughts, day dreams, dream catchers, white lights, tacked up photographs, & panoramas of your memoirs. getting strayed in the opposite corner, with only the direct light to map out your surveyed existence. swaying in intercepted thought, gracefully whisking your account on the world, twirling your emotions to and fro, forward and through. gently wondering why, but only sympathetically telling you so. sweet-tempered, these shadows. surrounding these occurrences, slithering within the confines of notion & assessment; telling you true. is this a secret between the shadows and you?