a matter of perspective

Forehead against the window,
watching the stream-lined shadow
of our high speed train
streak through the landscape

in such clear distinction against roads and walls—
much more vague against the grass and fields,

I wondered abstractly about shadow people
in that shadow train,
in unseen reflection of our movement,
themselves alternately knowing
clarity and indistinction—

and knowing as well, that at some point,
shadows disappear.

But it is only in the presence of light that shadows exist.

So while it’s true that shadows disappear
when the light goes—
they are absorbed not into present darkness,
but into unseen light.

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