Fire

Is it the flame or the shadow that dances?
Sense proclaims one cause, the other, effect.
Flame follows as shades ride chances.
Lights leap in silhouettes neglect.
Staring stonily into black satin dark
The embers steal my attention.
Should I be drawn to flame and to spark
Peripheral night’s the contention.
I am neither light nor shadow.
I am neither dream nor illusion
I am the witness
I am
The Dancer.
1999-2010
Brian E Deagon