Shadow's Edge

Blurred edges of shadows, alien in origin, cast themselves upon walls that were worn thin by trivial pursuits and human imperfections. Crumbling, naked, exposed to earthly expectations, these are the walls that confine us, these are the shadows that define us. If we are the mindless pawns that wander blindly through the fields of death and desire, then they are the silent guardians, deprived of love and loss, who know not how to tire. They fear not the withered, trembling hands of time, for they know how fleeting moments are in the hours of one’s prime. Emotion cannot skew the static gaze of eyes meant to swallow seas of human plight. They do not know the meaning of idle days, when seconds breed minutes breed hours breed night. Helplessness embalms these sentinels of sorrow in a state of childish rapture, for they know today is but a mirror of tomorrow, the present but memories of the future. If only we could abandon this stagnant routine of constant departure to ends unknown and heed the advice of eyes that have seen the trail of tears where no winds have blown.