Over my shoulder
the shadow eyes watch
In the tiny hairs of my ears
the shadow voices whisper
I do the crossword
The shadow helps
slyly suggesting words
I look out the window at the rain
The shadow says
It comes
It goes
I regard the mirrored mouth
The shadow asks
Who’s that?
I tap my feet
The shadow says
Wanna dance?
When the shadow speaks
there’s a pulling.
An in-breath.
Drawing, searching gravity.
Loneliness.
There’s also
a pausing.
An out-breath.
A sweeping. A clearing.
Solitude.
At the mention of solitude
the shadow mouth
turns up its corners
and the shadow eyes
glint
The shadow is not
an other
Not a space
holding a place for an other
It’s wu:
the nothing.
The vastness
capacity
void
field
where lips
droplets
jukeboxes
thoughts
the ten thousand things
that constitute the universe
arise
and return.
In the void
of the shadow soul
loneliness
the breathing-in
draws them forth.
In the vastness
of the shadow mind
solitude
the breathing-out
sweeps them back.
As the ten thousand things
arise and return
lips
droplets
jukeboxes
thoughts
wu
the nothing
the shadow mind
whispering loneliness
breathing solitude
sits on its barstool
watching them all