Within The Shadow
Turn your back to the sun,
and look deep into your shadow.
It lies on the ground before you;
a void into your mind.

Through the sidewalk, at your feet;
a place where no one can follow.
A doorway only you can see;
everyone else is blind.

You stare into its depths,
and hear it call your name.
The traffic, the birds, the people;
all sounds you no longer hear.

You take one step and begin to descend,
into the seemingly solid frame.
With every step you take,
the feeling is drawn near.

Further you enter,
encompassment is slow.
The feeling is drawn closer;
relaxing, full of thought.

Your shadow aligns with your body,
then you are below.
Despite the odd occurrence,
you're not at all distraught.

You stop when there is no more light;
you can see nothing at all.
You are full of good emotions;
caring, love, and cheer.

There is nothing below your feet;
not floating, yet you do not fall.
Then all around you, above and below,
many visions appear.

Scenes of your past;
distant and not.
Memories from every point in your life,
as you walk, the more you see.

Memories that you remember,
and ones that you thought you forgot.
You see something peculiar further ahead,
and you wonder what it could be.

You pass your pasts, both happy and sad,
learning as you go.
Seeing your life before your eyes,
sends your thoughts to flight.

You see your accomplishments and failures,
and of yourself you begin to know.
The object before you becomes clearer,
and you marvel at the sight.

It's a construction of some sort,
but what is it of?
What are the materials of its being?
Is it short?  Is it tall?

Do you look down or ahead to see it?
Do you look above?
Is it thin, massive, or both?
Does it go this way and that in any shape at all?

Every person has a construction,
that represents their being.
It is held within the depths of your mind,
and is created by your past.

Think about your self,
and with everything you're seeing.
Look at your construction,
and start to know yourself at last.
I think my subconscience was primarily responsible for this one.

The poem seems a little foreign to me, even though I did write it.