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Imprisoned in His Shadow

Centuries past,
he crossed my path—
a momentary presence,
never to return.

At this well, he quenched his thirst,
his reflection dissolving into mine,
lingering, merging—
a gaze caught in rippling waters.

Now, I am ensnared in that image,
half-formed, fragile,
a captive of his fleeting shadow.

The waters rise,
layer upon layer,
and with them, I ascend—
restless waves one moment,
the still stretch of the sky the next.


Who can say
when that wanderer might return?
How many of his shadows
drifting like clouds on the wind?
Wherever I look,
his reflection haunts me,
etched into, all it touches.


Time slips away in the ticking of the clock,
while endless oceans spill from 

droplets of unseen clouds.
And rainbows arc across the air,
born of sunlight’s gentle flare.


And yet, he remains—
a nomad,
unbound,
untouched,
forever out of reach.

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