Shadows sweep the boulevards; winding their way around lampposts, climbing along trellises, slinking up shop walls.
A single shadow, attached to human feet must get lonely. Feeling cold, hard stones, metal and concrete along its edges only.
Darkness is simply the only time shadows can get together and play. Oh, the dances they dance, such an array.
We truly miss out on the nighttime display, of laughter and gaiety in the streets once past day.
A shadow does not merely disappear when the sun refuses to shine for a time. Does something not exist just because we cannot see it? Does it fail to exist all due to lack of [sun]shine?
But this, dear reader, is the timing of true mystique. These are the things we shall miss if we stop too long to blink.
Soulmates found in this darkness at daylight’s end. Meeting up in full moonlight, as the shadow dances descend.
The timbre of stars is like nothing a human ear could ever recount, for it only alights when shadows abound.
How else to explain the ignition of touch, that occurs when two “strangers” meet after the dusk?
Oh, dappy mortal, who thinks this mere fate. Did you not realize your shadow had already found your mate?
When humanity steps back, permitting the ethereal its part. Well, this is when true romance is aware in the heart.
So upon next moon’s cycle, when dusk begins its measured fade. Take a tiptoe out into moonlight’s cascade.
Beware ne’re to disturb, this ethereal dance, but instead simply view the gossamer beauty as pure happenstance.
For where mortal and spectral gaze upon one another, the spell hence is broken, the magic disentangled. Thus rendering the chance at true love eternally strangled.
But for those mere observers who catch a fleeting glimpse of the phantasmic, surely will know love’s quintessential magic.