Young Writers Society

The red ball of fire,

Melted into the purple horizon,

And emerged from the skyline,

Somewhere overseas, on the other side.

--

The lights went off in the blink of an eye,

I searched for the candles kept in the shelf,

Guided by the brightness of torch,

Of my phone's dark reflecting screen.

--

I shivered with cold,

The snowflakes floated down,

And settled slowly on the heap of ice,

On soil sprinkled with the toppings of snow.

--

The flame was quivering in front of me,

The whole room was covered with shadows,

Small and big, tall and short,

Of artistic shapes draped in black.

--

The harmless shadows

Of the objects so sharp;

The blunt shadow of the knife so pointed,

Created on the wall contradicting its traits.

--

The silent shadow of the noisy radio,

Doesn't see the filthiness of the broken radio;

Casted on the wall is the shadow,

Irrespective of the object being new or old.

--

Blind to dirt, dust and negativity,

The shadow like a clay is fictile;

The projected shadow easily adjusts itself,

With varying angles and directions of light.

--

Can I be like the shadow?

Adjusting myself in relation to those,

Varying angles of gloom and bloom in life,

Silent and blind to the flaws of people.

--

Can I be like the shadow?

Sometimes growing taller,

Boosting my self confidence,

Overcoming my inner fear.

--

Can I be like the shadow?

Sometimes growing shorter, 

Curbing my arrogance and pride,

Not letting it to conquer myself.

-

A/N : *Phew. It was a difficult topic... Required a lots of hard work to write something on it. Perhaps you might feel as if the word shadow is repeated toooo many times, but I felt the need to use that word again and again. If you have any suggestions to replace the word, please do suggest... Thanks for reading the poem!