June 5, 2015: Shadowplay

A lot of brilliant art stems from heartbreak.
You can always tell when you see it.
Something tugs inside of you. A pit forms in your stomach.
You might not even know why.
Just that feeling of loss, abandonment. Shortness of breath.
It makes your soul ache in a way that you can only describe as beautiful.

Spotlights shone on the two giant buildings. Pillars of glass and steal like twin beacons in the dark.
The crowd was seated. An elderly man sat alone in front, his eyes fixated on the buildings.

The light flickered and was filled by the shadow of a woman in long robes.
You could almost hear the silk of her skirt, rustling against dead leaves.
The shadow bowed, extended an arm in greeting and began to move.

She danced between buildings. Twirled. Swayed. Fully articulated.
The sound of gentle clapping. A flute played in the breeze.

The shadow danced. The crowd smiled and clapped along.
The man in front, wiped his eyes, smiling and nodding.

How can I bring my aching heart to rest, when I loved her so?
She’s gone from here…but I found the key to her immortality.
Just look…she moves, and dances.

I know it’s a puppet. Shadows.

But it’s also her spirit. It moves with her grace, her love.

I see the shadows, I know there is man making them move…but he’s easily forgotten. My love for her, that, I cannot forget.

I could only stare in disbelief as the crowd left.
My heart felt heavy, but in a good way.
Heavy with emotion, love and happiness.
The old man looked at, his eyes sparkled.
He stood on weak legs, placed his hand on my shoulder and squeezed.

We watched as the shadow disappeared and the spot lights went off.

He nodded, placed his hand on my heart over my chest and winked.
He walked down the street. The sound of rustling silk and flutes following him.

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