My shadow
clings to me—
indifferent,
it gazes at the state of the world.
With silence,
wordless,
sightless,
and guiltless.
At times on the ground,
at times on the wall—
no station,
no mask upon its face.
Here the sun
tenderly shines within me;
and my shadow,
always with me,
companion—
neither hand in the slaughter of innocents,
nor hidden behind a curtain.
My shadow, ever with me,
bears an unspoken word;
and I wonder:
If the world
were wholly veiled in shadows—
would it not be better?
Perhaps…
I am the shadow myself:
dark,
and obscure.
Fahim Arezou
Afghanistan-Herat
May 9
May 9, 2026 at 8:58 AM UTC
My shadow
clings to me—
indifferent,
it gazes at the state of the world.
With silence,
wordless,
sightless,
and guiltless.
At times on the ground,
at times on the wall—
no station,
no mask upon its face.
Here the sun
tenderly shines within me;
and my shadow,
always with me,
companion—
neither hand in the slaughter of innocents,
nor hidden behind a curtain.
My shadow, ever with me,
bears an unspoken word;
and I wonder:
If the world
were wholly veiled in shadows—
would it not be better?
Perhaps…
I am the shadow myself:
dark,
and obscure.
Fahim Arezou
Afghanistan-Herat