THE SHADOW MANUSCRIPT

A silent manuscript is my shadow, 

Written in the ink of dusk. 

It unfurls at my feet 

Like a forgotten verse

 Looking for its poet.

It tracks every step I take,

 In rain or sun,

 A devoted echo that demands nothing in return.

 Sometimes it moves before me,

 Leading where I fear to go;

 Sometimes it lingers behind,

 Heavy as forgotten woe.

Though it is composed of fading darkness,

 It teaches me that a part of me remains,

 Even when I stand alone.