The shadows of the past are no shadow theater
They know nothing of humor
Though dead, they walk
Instilling fear
A chill
Soulless faces
Mocking
They deride former lovers
Who no longer resemble themselves—
A stamp of selfishness upon their faces
The shadows transform all things precious
Into dust
Into dust and ashes
An archaeological site
Of a personal life
Into the ruins of Babylon and Pompeii
I slip away from the shadows of the past
I stand in the sun
Fixing my gaze upon the distance—
They can do nothing to me