Echoes No.2: Shadows

Shadows mean us no harm. Their meager thoughts cannot connect to our subtle minds. Still they occupy our pure flesh and invade our radiant souls, desperately hoping to become real beings like us. Their presence causes us distress. How can we help them in their distress without harming our selves? What sacrifice can we make to give them at least hope? I spend sleepless nights wrestling with this need to help them. I know you share this frustrated charity. (This poem is a response to "The Shadow" by Baharak Barzin.)