Reflections

SLOWLY I WALK AROUND THE SHADOWS,

SILENTLY FLOATING AROUND SOUND.

MY FEET SEEM TO BE MADE OF WATER,

AND MY EYES OF MIRRORS.

WHAT I SEE IS ME,

AND WHAT SEES ME IS ITSELF…

REFLECTIONS.

THEY SAY THE MIRROR NEVER LIES,

AND I WONDER IF REFLECTIONS DIE.

I WONDER IF HE THAT LIES BEHIND THAT SURFACE,

HAS A REAL FACE.

I WONDER IF HE TOO IS CONFINED BY TIME,

BY MIND,

I wonder…

I wonder;

DOES HE THINK?

DOES HE FEEL?

IS HE REAL?

AND THEN MY HAND SEEMS TO MIND ITS OWN,

AND REACHES OUT.

HE REACHES OUT TOO,

AND I,

HE,

WE,

 I GRAB.

Slowly we walk around the shadows,

Silently floating around sound.

Our feet seem to be made of water,

And our eyes of mirrors.

What we see is us,

And what sees us is itself…

…and I wonder about me.

mE