Song of the Shadow

Why does everyone curse me and blame me?
Why speak of such things as "the shadow of death?"
Why insist that I must bear the burden constantly?
When I am more fragile than your last breath-
If humans must have something like a shadow to blame,
Then you have no troubles deserving of the name.

I am only a shadow, and powerless against light.
I creep and hide in the edges of the darkness,
Not even having a place in the realm of the night,
Only good enough to be a harbinger of its starkness-
Both the darkness and the light the little shadow loathe,
Neither darkness nor light, but the poor child of both.

I disturb people, for when they see me and blink,
For a moment a creature out of nightmare they may
Believe me, or something else that makes them think.
Then they laugh, and remember they are in the day-
I would love to be something more than just a toy
Of the human mind that wreaks havoc on my joy.

I can take pleasure only in the shade of trees lying,
Or being the shadow of some harmless child at play.
But I am the witness of everything; I lie on the dying,
And I witness the life that the murderer steals away-
But they blame me for concealing and aiding him,
As if I did so not by destiny, but by my own whim!

If I had my wish, I would be a shade of the light,
Flashing and sparkling in many colors like jewels.
Or I would shrink always, as I do at noon, in fright,
And never alert anyone, lying in such tiny pools-
But I cannot change what I am; I have not the choice.
I must simply be what I am, and, if I can, rejoice.

I must accompany everyone in the world everywhere;
I must cease to exist in both the dark and the light;
I must drag behind when the evening touches the air;
I must stretch ahead when the dawn overcomes night-
I must do this, and that, and never have a choice.
I must simply be what I am, and, if I can, rejoice.

And sometimes I think I have a strange insight,
Whether I am watching the moon rise over the world,
Or the return of the dawn marching in triumphant light,
That they cannot match, for all their challenges hurled-
Strange, you think, that wisdom should reside in the small?
Perhaps; but that only proves you know me not at all.

I go everywhere, and, perforce, must see everything.
I am there when the greatest war rages half a world away
From the place where I might lie listening to birds sing,
And I am conscious of both of them, in my way-
I must know war and peace; I must know hatred and love,
And that makes me wiser than either of the pair above.

The sun hides its head beneath the world every day,
And the night fades when the light arises anew.
How can I, who ever am somewhere, who not away
Can make my retreat, but know more than they do?-
Yes, it is an arrogant thing for a little shadow to think,
But I never sleep, never retreat, am only gone for a wink.

Perhaps I should not mourn the force of destiny.
Perhaps I should simply take pleasure in my power,
The novelty that is denied everyone but me,
The endless expanse of knowledge to know and devour-
Perhaps I should not for freedom from my task long,
And be content to sing the shadow's omniscient song.