Shadows
in the corners of
my mind
whisper as they dart
from consciousness,
haunting glimpses of shades
aching to be;

    sunsets longing to paint
    the colorless clouds and
    the black horizon
    with something other than
      soft silver grey,

    swirling melody
    which hangs suspended 
    in the air from
    unseen cords     wanting only
    to glimmer golden rose
    on the ear of some mortal,

    poetry pouring like icy water
    over the stones of my criticism
    desiring nothing more 
    than the apparition of a 
      subtle blue-green.

The chords that are my shadow voices
echo through open corridors,
hum in dark corners
and sometimes shout
from portals still as death;

  'Verdant Teal my destiny--my signature desire!'
  or 'Blood Red I will banner across humanity!'

But the echoed cry fades
back into open corridors,
words falling from an elevated scream
into shadows once again--

  Shadows soft and silver grey
  that whisper unheard
  in the corners of my mind.