Eight shadows in the looking glass,
Lie beyond the twilight time;
Let the unsaid terrors pass,
And hear my shadows rhyme.

The child of the shadow’s soul,
He tells a painful tale;
Of firmly holding to his role,
While starting he may fail.

And courage conquers fear we know,
Betrays patience with a lust;
To boldly without thinking go,
Finds all has turned to dust.

The lover gave his love to all,
Open-hearted and the fool;
And fell along the way in thrall,
To compassions bitter rule.

By light of day the healers way,
Seems too pure to be maligned;
But what of when the healers pray,
To end sufferings defined?

Strength incarnate comes to play,
And acts where and when he must;
But in the shadows of the day,
He may yet betray their trust.

And too the Androgyne must find,
His shadows lurking there;
Balanced stillness in the mind,
Brings entropy to bear.

Gnosis once begun is there,
But where to draw the line?
With being and existing rare,
What is ours and what is mine?

Of the Elder, where to pay,
Our compliments and tears;
His downfall is a single day,
Of living in his fears.

And thus my shadow-song is done,
But hear this one last rhyme;
Though we least fear the greatest sun,
This is shadows purest time.