All I ever see of me is my shadow,
And depending on how my shadow has been informed,
It passes on to me its information,
Albeit limited, and somewhat distorted.

The only time I ever see my spirit,
I close my eyes and look down deep inside.
I dream when I'm awake and when I'm sleeping,
But these are just hints to the wide and spacious places that are "me."

My shadow only ever tells me gossip.
My dreams provide oases that mirage.
My heart tells me that kettle drums
At some distant Celtic Mayfair long ago
May be all that's keeping me alive.

And if I can hear the song that they are singing,
And if I can understand the ancient brogue,
My shadow will wander off to go out dancing
And leave me with my dreams to be alone.

I can enjoy the perfect rhythm of the drummer.
I can know that somewhere hearts beat gay.
And I can be as happy here as they are there
In their happy mansions of eternal day.

Somehow.

-jenn