I wonder if my shadow plays while I’m asleep.
Or if it stretches, weaving itself into the fabric
of my dreams.
I wonder if my shadow has ever crossed the sky, and danced on the surface of the moon.
Or if it lies with me, buried, screaming,
inside my bones.
But my shadow does play.
It must.
I wonder if my shadow has ever bathed
in the silver light of the stars.
Or if it chooses to swim in the golden rays
of the sun.
I wonder if my shadow has ever stumbled,
blinded by the brilliance of a new star.
Or if it has ever been pulled away from me, shrinking in the darkness of a black hole.
If it has, it has always found its way back.
Because it must.
I wonder what my shadow would choose: me,
or the stars.