The matador of shadows
hesitates.Within the arena of trees, the grasses
hold their breath, though some,
as always,
taunt him, the vetch is the worst
(those tough guys, he'd like to see them get in the ring!)
The trick is that there is none.
If you think you can hone a technique
that will get your shadow everytime, well,
that's your first and most irreparable mistake.
Your second is seeing the shadow
as your enemy.
How long does he spend with these shadows
in their stalls, listening to their bellows, their
snufflings, rubbing down each dark hide!
It is much harder to kill what one loves,
but there is more justice in it.
The flowers who cast themselves at his feet
know this, how they adore his difficult quest:
the slow stampede of the shadow,
his cape's majestic parry,
him whirling in his eternal
suit of light.
