Shadow

I just pulled this out of the vaults: 'twas buried under the weight of many a Greek Idol; but I think it remains pure.

Somewhere,
In the vicinity of a candle,
There lurks a shadow.
He looks on,
From a cold, dark viewpoint,
With jealous eyes.

He doesn’t know he’s jealous –
But he is.
He doesn’t even know there’s a candle –
But there is.

How do you know? You may ask.
I may tell:
When the darkness of night reigns,
Shadows haven’t a place;
But when the sun rises
And the sky turns a soft blue,
The Shadow is born.

It has no entity its own:
Without the candle it doesn’t exist.
The greater the light –
The greater the shadow.

Then why isn’t it warm and true,
Like its source?
For if it was to be so…
It would have no power its “own”;
And, wherein would lie the challenge?
Certainly not in the shadows!

Who am I writing to?
Doubtfully the Shadow,
For he can’t read!
I only write to the candle,
As only he alone can teach;
Only he alone can create.

Teach whom?
Teach what?
Teach the shadow –
How to read.

Create what?
From whom?
Create a Light –
From, The Shadow.