Shadow Play

To W.S.

Welcome to Plato’s cave,
Where no shadows dance.
I see Icarus’ already here.

See them all? See?
Forms. No shadows,
Just kings with crowns.

Price of admittance –
Your mind. Not for
Everybody. Proceed.

That? That’s just Munch.
They were never wrong,
The Old Masters, about

The beauty of urns.
Mistah Kurtz’s here again,
There with the hollow men.

Where thou art you,
Faust? “In the shadows
Of the Valley of death.”

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