The Face of a Shadow

Photo by Thomas Leuthard 

How can I not remember you? You, whom I’ve first looked fixedly and assembled a world, a world that's fully-figured with enigmatic moods of upbringing. You, whom I’ve meted out a hundred laughs wrapped in a pavement blue and a thousand tears camouflaged in a crawl-way yellow. Inside you are testimonies of how I primed and morphed into this kind of mortal wit.

As I riffled through the old photographs, I can bare witness of the decades that passed. In an abode that served my family for more than 60 years, I can clearly see the memories. Contained in you is an alluring painting that turned gray-haired over time. The furniture, aristocratic in its own way, that only seemed exhausted a myriad ages.

So far, I only see nothing but changes. Now that things have taken me two decades of chargeless life, I only see nothing but living quarters that get emptier through the years.  And yes, these changes are the ones that naturally have to happen in ways no one can ever hold purse strings. Well, every human macrocosm has to face this dynamo of life.

In a minute when my crowded cranium decided to meet you in the flesh again, and this time in a more seasoned look, the contemporary milieu described me a litany of familiar shadows. And here’s one shadow that I just couldn’t seem not to seek. I find this shadow exactly similar to what I was seeing several primordial years back. 

Revolting curiosities really encouraged me to get to know whose, this shadow I’m seeing was. Finally, my senses discerned like hedonist, adroit agent of Whoop. Howbeit in these discoveries, a secluded aimless shadow is found. Rubbed confidence and self-regard surfaced like a floating albacore in a bombed sea world. And this shadow appears still so young. This is, as I’ve finally figured out, a shadow exactly similar but not entirely the same to what I’ve seen in the past. My heart goes out to this shadow but I just couldn’t get into a rescue. The help to defeat the Machiavellian thief that wears down this shadow’s identity is only about to come, from itself. 

The least thing I can do is to offer a lavish of prayer that someday soon, a bright incandescent will show up erasing to the boundless of times the face of this shadow that is yet unseen in the dark.

Image Credits:

Drop Shadow by Thomas Leuthard, flickr.com