In my mind, there are shadows no light can banish.
They rebel the day and haunt the night.
A still night follows a cloudy day.
Where no light can enter.
The smell of brimstone and burning ash.
A giant stalks from such a height.
There is no one else to say.
'The light is forever bright at the center.'
So with that the ageing giant does vanish.
He turns to mist and blows out of sight.
To a place where the sun burns bright.
And laughter fills the air.
Yet, we must all remember that it's only truly shadows.
It's always only shadows.
