Ever behind me. Rise a shadow taller than I. Yet, with a certain resemblance. How many times do I have to contemplate my own reflection. And say: I have been blind? I have been blind. Yet, I saw the search and dreams of my rejection. Walking behind me. Every time, I am bound to have been granted the gift of better sight. But my anxiety, built one more brick. Fearing again to choose the wrong step. Vaguely I remember the blurred eyes of someone small. These strangers often come as blind. A troubled mind I left behind. Yet, was it I of my shadow walking in the past?
