The stranger

I sit under the tree

Listening to the whispers

Of the wind

And rattle of the leaves,

Staring non-stop

At the shadow

Of the stranger

That glides lengthily

As the golden sun usurp the evening.

From the illusion of my mind

The stranger appears familiar

Basking in the golden light

He projects a smile mysterious.

Everything hued with golden shine

And I smiled within

Knowing the stranger

Is, none other but the illusive me,

The part remain hidden,

Yet to be awakened.

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