fits like skin
over control
that my conscious
mind believes it holds.
The shadow hand,
full of creative energy,
holds my consciousness still;
words spill out to trace
a story
a dream
a wish
The page, once blank
and without thought
hums with life.
“My shadow serves as the friend I crave.”
~ Anna Akhmatova, poet
(1889 ~ 1966)
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