As I write on this night,
under the approaching midnight,
my hand moving under the single light,
surrounded by the shadow of the night,
I watch my hand's shadow be born,
the impression of my hand being of my hand being worn.
I ponder if its dark opposite,
is trapped in another world parallel to it,
a world where all is inverted,
a world chained to our world in a way that cannot be averted,
the two stark twins bound to for a whole,
can show we are bound,
in ways that cannot be found.
