My shadow is my friend—for long I’ve seen

When others flee or falter, he remains;

At back, at front, beside when winds blow keen,

He walks with me and ever there sustains.

When all seems lost, he stands bereft of woe

And draws his blade whenever I draw mine—

To charge lockstep fanatic, fiend or foe

And swings till blood flows rich as vintage wine.

In quiet moments when I’m deep in thought

He ruminates beside me chin in hand;

Firm silent strength that e’er a soul hath sought

To guide free will—but never to command.

No greater kinship shall there ever be:

Pure will, pure right—my silhouette and me.