Through the glass pane – a poem

 The rays of the sun cut through the panes,
 lighting up all I have in here
 It does not choose what it wants to bare,
 the chairs, the sofa even the carpets get their share
 I cut the beam,  
 stand in its way
 now the room is dark again
 As I glow in the light, feeling warm and right,
 behind me my shadow looms,
 extended, deformed my true self it bares.