The Arms of Shadow
Written by Sher Chandley The Arms of Shadow in the blanket of deep night I look upon a sickly moon glimmering in a misty sky shedding embers of scanty light. Sleep is out of reach in a night time daydream I run free into the forest into the twilight under the trees squat down in a deep reverie Constant with the silence exuding proud freedom offered by my core I am insensible to all pain that is happening to me a feeling of light like levitation such as occurs in dreams. My soul sheds its weight in melody and rhythm of a purer, sunnier life I am elevated and impelled by the permanent, the infinite into the absolute timeless in the cold hour before dawn comes salty disturbances like burning gusts of wind cutting a path in my quietude like a falling, winding stream raging in a torrent downhill I am still awake when day leaps into the sky the red rim of the sun rises over shoulders of dark land colors of waking earth returns as the shadows of my night melt my wonder drips to warm, comfortable beds having a hot, tasty meal by the cheeks of a red fire while the wind howls outside the rain twirling upon the roof. There is a whirring in my mind as my wonder leaks and shifts to conscience thoughts on the poor and sickly the cold and hungry biting fingers in the bitter blue No sooner I try to close my eyes my mind and body reels forcing me to open them again toss, turn, sit up and lie down the lightening dark dazzles me into a dead heavy like lead in an instant, a dread lightness I cannot walk, I float drift like a gossamer the ground is a cloud, the air a current, like a river carrying me to and fro transported on the breeze twixt a castle of rude plenty and sombre, meagre hut My eyes are wide open to the pain of poverty I know its unnecessary my eyes are open I am wide awake It's raining blood I am blown away, away on cloud carried by the wind into the reaching long arms of a travesty of shadow.