In the tranquil quiet of sundown’s beauty,
Shadows stretch, their quiet hug,
Murmurs wait where light can’t step,
A world inconspicuous, where insider facts are taken care of.
They dance on walls, in energetic appearance,
Reverberations of considerations, the heart’s mask,
In corners dull, they weave and influence,
Telling stories of the blurring day.
A darling’s murmur, a youngster’s enjoyment,
Caught in structures that flutter from sight,
They glint like dreams, tricky and armada,
The language of shadows, both unpleasant and sweet.
An unpleasant look, a temporary aggravation,
Shadows discuss misfortune and gain,
In each flash, a story bound,
The implicit bits of insight that wait at the top of the priority list.
So listen close, when the day says farewell,
In the dance of the dim, the shadows talk valid,
For in their quietness, the heart gets it,
The language of shadows, written in sands.
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