In the mirror of their gaze, a fleeting glint, A shadow of unrest, a discontent hint. Before the storm of judgment breaks its line, Retreat, for their fears are not yours nor mine. In that brief flicker, a truth is unveiled, A bridge that, once tread, has crumbled and failed. They see in you reflections of their plight, Turn away, allow them their own night's fight. We are all worlds, spinning in silent grace, Yet some shadows cross paths, then leave no trace. In the dance of souls, not all steps align, So step back gently, let them guard their shrine.