Image from Adobe Stock I see the shadows move around the bend.Without an origin, they lack a destined fate.I follow the street where pools of light meetWith depths of virginal darkness, late at night.Inky blackness makes the formsShaped from gradients of Void-substance.Nothing self-negates by making Being.Creatures coalesce and scramble in periphery.They swarm in the shadows and cover me.Further along the dark-way.Repeating patterns of motion lead me silently.Unacknowledged, untouched, but surrounded by companions -- I am.

Extra pages at a book’s end prove that it is honest.

Veraj paĝoj havas molaĵon.

Rotting fallen fruit proves that a tree has grown.

Veraj fruktoj havas semojn.

Sour green berries prove that the harvest has passed.

Veraj vitoj havas dornojn.

Joseph’s cry proves that Rachel had once been near.

Veraj ekziloj havas mantelojn.

The lying wedding veil proves the bride unknown.

Veraj veroj havas malverojn.

Quality wine saved for the end proves the host.

Veraj amikoj havas tempon.

Long and burdensome conversations prove friendship.

Veraj vortoj havas glavojn.