The Lie of Shadows
On the western shore of the lake,
A little girl sings a song.
I pray the trees do not flicker toward the east;
A small peace in her eyes screams silence.
The silence has intoxicated the entire lake,
A fragment of nature drifting toward the sea I know.
There, a lone, forsaken dwarf exists in the shadow of life.
If only the trees recognized his shadow,
So they might sing a song for him.
The melodious dwarf has never tasted the sweetness of attention;
His hands have felt only the touch of a blade.
He is a stranger to the love of his kin,
And wishes, one day, to marry his sword.
Yes! To lie with his sharp steel is his only desire.
Recent events have left blue stains upon his skin;
I pray the deception of shadows does not torment him.
A girl on this side, a dwarf on that,
Both sing a song aloud.
But the dwarf alters his tune,
Lest another dwarf should dream of joining his side.
Time passes—futile and harsh, yet vivid and profound.
The time is in motion.
If only the dwarf could see his own shadow in the girl across the stream…
But he does not see, for he has never seen anything at all.
Not a woman, nor anything else.
To notice such a thing is a cruelty to our own eyes.
Let us forget.
Let us forget the existence of such a fate.
S
The Lie of Shadows On the western shore of the lake, A little girl sings a…
