A shadow slips by,
forgotten and lost.
Which turn to take?
Each has its cost.

The silent voice
waiting and wanting,
yearning to be heard.
It is haunting.

The shadow awaits
the break of dawn.
For a new day.
For a new morn.

It is patient.
It can wait.
Alone, it bears
all the hate

It is hope
that keeps it sane.
Hope that one day
it will feel the rain.

For when the shadow feels,
it shall live again.
And all the hope it had
will not be in vain.

The shadow will rise
higher and higher.
Igniting the embers,
starting a mighty fire.

But for now,
the shadow shall wait.
To begin its purpose.
To weave its fate.