Shadows are at their thickest under the brightest of the light. One may look behind them to see the sharpest formulation of their curves, crevices, and shapes and see all the movement that its entirety will mirror from the body to which it belongs. Along with it comes the possible dawning of a realization of the amount of space they take under the intense glares of luminescence, as well as this very phenomenon's embedding into their essence's hearts.
In the spirit of a Being's creative pursuit, Shadows are a tool of fortune in telling and retelling the adventures that the Being's body played, which is told to the space upon which the Shadow lays. In the stillness of the Being, one will stare into its Shadow only for one to see how the flower in front bends down sorrowfully. It bends because the sun's rays, parried by the Being's body, failed to reach its petals. And the Shadow's owner may see it as an act of unwillful deprivation enacted by its mere presence. Eventually, as the body moves, the eyes can never once again turn blind against the images of flowers and plants and everything bright in the face of life bending downwards. Jolly skipping over green grasses will slowly turn into steps upon eggshells. Limbs flowing freely with the gush of the breeze will be bound close by fear and guilt. The head held high in facing the facets of reality's differences is now cast down to the truth of contempt felt by taking space.
'A damnation. An abomination. The epitome of error in Creation,' the Shadow of Being will perceive itself as, until a lone puny beast lies underneath the Shadow for a rest from the sun's heat and radiance. For a moment's whim, the Shadow has become the solace of a new identity - a stark contrast of significance from what was preconceived. Titillating notions of curiosity and confusion disrupted the balance of the scorn that settled itself deep within the heart that constantly interprets the world—the world that had just seemed to have grown a little bit bigger after the encounter. The very entity that withheld light from those who took life from it is also a haven for those weary of the light that also diminishes life. 'Such an astonishing paradox!'
And the world had grown even more so when one met a fellow Being whose Shadow swayed along in telling and retelling adventures. In quick strides, the slow dance of two Beings intertwined. In what felt like an impeccable interpolation of two destinies's ends, the waltz of two Beings' feet explored and created beats, tempos, and melodies that passionately laced each of the Beings' clashes, which are now created and played by the Shadows of two Beings sharing and uniting the spaces from where they're are eternally bound.
Images upon images, they formed stories from their Shadows, holding each other's hands. Sometimes, it's each other's necks. Some days, they'd go up to the top of the hill and play upon a bed of daisies. Crowns will be made out of them, and a coronation will be held. Together, side by side, they'd stand on the edge and see the world from up there, with their Shadows resting upon the ground growing larger the deeper the slope gets. Backs against each other, they'd watch both ends of the world be filled with their Shadow without a single care about which being suffers and which finds solace underneath the existence of their shade. It is in these moments that their reign feels like the only thing that matters in the world.
But on some days, they'll be bathed in daylight as their Shadows tightly hold one another's limbs on a bed of roses filled with unforgiving thorns. And, they'll dance. They'd dance the waltz of anger and torment and pride and sadness and fear, with each step evoking a yelp or a scream from them for the scratches of the thorns so ruthless upon their feet were almost unbearable if it weren't for the petals raining over them as they move with painful grace.
In the evening and in all the evenings, underneath the moon's lucent glow and in the cradling of the night's cool breeze, there the Beings lie still. They'd be unstirred along with the world within their embrace or with just their hand holding onto each other. Both Shadows are caged within both Bodies, and not a thought about existence's essence and how it's forged upon the earth will matter during that moment. Everything under the moon is sound asleep, and everything breathes out the life of the day about to pass. Everything is still, and everything is quiet. Everything wouldn't matter but the warmth that each of the Being's bodies emanates—the warmth they feel from each other. And with that thought, they would smile.
Because it is in those moments that they'd feel alive and at peace with just their Bodies. To feel the warmth of an existence so bare beside you during the night feels like the epitome of a life free from the constant demand of placing your Shadow properly in a world filled with all shades of grey. 'By simply being there as I sleep, the justification that my beating heart needs has been given,' both Beings whisper, hoping that the wind would carry their words to each other's ears.
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The Sun is eternally unforgiving when we wish for ourselves to cease and always merciful when we're grateful for the Shadows we emit on the grounds of this world. Its shining light cast upon us is nothing but a projector lighted against a canvas waiting to be filled with stories of meaning and virtue and the complete lack of it. Underneath the vastness of it all, we are nothing but Beings emanating our Shadows, along with other Beings emanating their own Shadows. What is right, wrong, what is proper, what isn't, what is unsightly, what is pleasant, and all of it basking underneath the Sun's rays turns grey under the Moon.