The Soul of the Words Themselves

The detachable shadow is tall
And shaped something like a hunched eagle,
Something like a standing human, wrapped

In a matte grey cloak. But it’s too tall
For either of those things, and it glides,
Rather than flying or taking steps.

We call it detachable shadow
Since it moves about freely and not
Because it’s an actual shadow.

It’s not. It’s not shade thrown by the light;
It’s shade that blocks the light. It’s enough
Like a shadow, however, to be

Quite easily mistaken for one,
And mostly it is. But why are we
Telling you this? Where we are, it is.