A man stood in the shadows, in the shadow of his cameras.

Shadows gathered around; the shadows of another time.

Shadows played within his mind, of years long gone, a pantomime,

when love and laughter were alive and children grew up strong.

When wild places called a man to live a life to ancient tunes,

to hunt, to fish, to see and live, provider of the needs of life.

Still other timeless tugs of mind, the thought of paintings in a cave.

Stone walls carved or drawn upon, with animals of long ago.

Again the shadows fill his mind, as on this day he gives away

a daughter dear, a part of him. Where have the years all gone?

Now the shadows dance again. The music blows the human forms.

The leaping flames mere images of people from another age.

But now these shadows are not lost, held on a tiny camera disc.

The RAM, not horned but silicone; holds the image dot by dot.

So there he is, this shadows man. Lost in an age, lost from an age,

the images an endless theme but what of life and love?

 
 
David Garlick, Sidney, August, 2002