Late at night when the world is still,
Into this world shadows will spill.
Shadows cast without aid of light,
Often escape our busy sight.
But, by quieting our minds to a degree,
Sometimes we will be able to see.
From the corner of our eye they transform,
From a shadow to their past human form.
Sometimes it may be someone we know,
Standing alight, in a pure white glow.
Sometimes it's a stranger who comes to call,
Someone familiar with these hallowed halls.
Their full form you will never see,
For they can hide in obscurity.
Again into the shadows they quickly drift,
From our sight into a timeless rift.
Disappearing into the tweens,
A place where heaven and earth convenes.
As the universe contracts and expands,
So too do the shadowlands.