There once sprang a shadow named Song
Whose darkness spun the first words, so humans
And all their cries and all their curses
Did echo out a cascading dissonance
Such that Song stood helpless
Watching what madness did madness create
So swift thereafter did Song dissipate
That all who knew forgot his name
So ‘Shadow’ was all he became
Long did Shadow wander so seldom touching
Those beings manipulating by His creation
Until one day, Shadow came upon Death
As She tended to tidying a quiet grave
Her fingers worked softer than silk
Sifting soul after soul, every memory
Passed beneath the eyes of Her fingertips
“What are you doing?” Shadow asked Her.
“Why, I am doing your duty, little brother.”
“Are you not disgusted by their deception?"
“Nor their devilry nor despotism,” Death replied.
“Here,” She continued, “come, look through my eyes.”
With Shadow’s aid, Death severed Her hands
And traded them for Song’s darkness
Such that Shadow touched all
And Death disappeared
And the two remained this way
For never there existed a better pair
Shadow gazed through His sister’s eyes and saw
Every nightmare’s soul contains a crying infant
Each monster’s heart, a child helpless
That for every horrid, twisted tune
There sang a higher melody, something
Familiar to Shadow’s original song
That for every fragment of darkness
Was Death’s compassion and serenity
That for every being, loving or hating
Was a piece of Shadow’s masterpiece
That for every part of Him and Her
There bloomed a little soul …
Much like you
