Nic Courto Music

Shadows, like silence, signify an absence.
A lack of light, signs of life gone missing.
We stalk the shadows, sliding outside of your vision
perhaps in your periphery a prick of recognition,
to be shaken from your mind.

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This world we walk within, beyond the veil,
dark as night, deep, deprived of hope 
holds a life that lacks the luxuries you’re used to. 
We beg, we barter and we borrow without asking.
Always out of sight. 

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In and out, insipid but inspired by our own dark gods,
patiently following our path, prising open doors
silently so that suspicious ears don’t sense our approach. 
In shadows, whispers of us, whirl on the wind,
just out of earshot. 

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We are where your belongings went, those you thought lost
the makers of many a mysterious death,
the forgers of fate, fingers manipulating the strings
of you, the puppets, poor and pathetic, unable to resist
our unseen guidance. 

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There is no hiding for you who live in the light
we are always watching. 

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