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February 22, 2014

I am a scarlet ribbon, draped
from some loose drifting cloud,
and as I move above the earth,
I see my shadow move below.

My shadow grows and wanes as heights
and depths retreat and swell,
and as the sun outpaces me
upon its swift celestial road.

I fear my looming shadow, dark
and rippling with the earth;
I fear its shifting shape and size,
but most of all I fear its touch.

I fear the lust that grips my soul
when scarlet touches earth,
for when I near my colourless
reflection on the ground I yearn

to grip its end and become one—
to be a thing of earth,
and kiss the stony crags and depths
and tumble through the mountain grass.

But then, I know, the ground will have
my body evermore,
and I would never touch the skies
again, and all my colour’d fade.

So I must hold my trail above
the empty shadow, long
upon the earth below my cloud,
and learn to look at sky, not earth.

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