Shadows in the Silent Valley

Atop the towering spire of power, he sits alone,

Amidst mountains of gold and silver, yet cold as stone.

His gaze pierces through the city’s neon glow,

Searching for his past self, fading slowly, toe to toe.

He treads the edge of fame and fortune, an endless feast,

Where glasses reflect twisted smiles and shadows at least.

Ambition and fear lie buried in his heart,

Along with the solitude power demands, tearing him apart.

Each decision dances on the cliff between fraud and right,

He wanders the line between darkness and light,

Reaping stares of flattery and awe,

Yet, to the mirror’s reflection at night, he feels raw.

He once dreamt of benevolence, a hero’s pride,

But the game of power shifted his aim aside.

He learned to forget conscience amid applause,

Burying goodness at each glorious cause.

Surrounded by luxury and flattery, his life unfurls,

Yet accompanied by emptiness and unrest that twirls.

Wandering in a world of money and power’s weave,

He begins to question what he truly believes.

One day, under the sunset’s fading light, he sighs,

Looking back at the path of integrity he once prized.

Only now does he dare to confront,

The true self, devoured by ambition, upfront.

In every silent night, he ponders deep,

Whether his soul under power’s weight, begins to seep.

But before the sun rises anew,

He chooses again the mask that gleams, his facade to renew.

For he knows, in this world wide,

Sometimes, to be lost is but an art to survive.