Separation

My shadow is leaving me.
It has rejected my solidness.
It says I am too definitive;
I lack ambiguity.
It is tired of my pedestrian ways.

I have offered it stability
but it wants to be free,
feathery, graceful as smoke,
to rise and drift, to dance,
most of all, to dance, unencumbered,
unrestrained by the bulk of my
heaviness.

I have tried to warm it
of the dangers of groundlessness
but it will not listen.

Poor shadow.
When I walk into a forest
I will find shreds of it
in all the trees.