As I stand in a snowy starlit field,
I see a shadow cast.
It shutters out the beauty of the glistening snow.
I hate this shadow, destroyer of beauty.
I turn from it in scorn.
"Beauty should be unmarred" I think.

I stand in the radiance of the stars.
I look back at the shadow.
The soft, velvet darkness of it,
so like the black fabric to which the stars are sewn.
The shadow creates it’s own beauty
and makes the glistening snow seem even brighter.
"What could create such a thing?" I wonder.
I follow the shadow to it’s source:
Me.