Reflections of the Past #1584

Reflections of the Past (Echoes in the Shadows) Shadows always come from the past, their whispers cast into the present. Visions do not spring from future's light but emerge as reflections born of night. Gatsby's cry, “Can’t repeat the past?” rings loud, his vow echoing through time. Wildly searching, his eyes skew, he reaches for shadows of the life he once knew. In the house, shadows lurk, memories forming a constant murk. He stretches out a trembling hand, grasping for the past like shifting sand. Who we are is a mirrored frame, shaped by shadows and lit by flame. Every dream and every quest arises from yesterday's unrest. The past, a ghost that never leaves, weaves itself into the shadows. Vision, shaped by what has been seen, reflects the might-have-been. Shadows always come from there, the past's embrace a tender snare. Vision is born of yesteryears, emerging from the shadows through our tears. Can we grasp what has gone? Gatsby's hope becomes a fervent song. In the shadows, truth hides, blending past and present side by side. Written by Steven G. Lee (May 31, 2024)