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Mirrors

The bell tower points like a finger 

To the empty sky. Where are all the stars?

I have been many things and none

Has lasted. Does something remain?

The bells ring the hour, but out

Of time: a vague ‘now’ that’s nowhere.

I have took many masks and tried

To cover or control or express this

Deepest shadow, bottomless like the night,

Full of dreams and voices so hard

To understand: but all compact in one

Unique tone of dark blue light.

I have never seen my face—nobody

Does. I have sought mirrors of irregular

Surfaces and different shapes to look

In my own eyes: I see never the same.

The stars are gone, time is broken,

Masks dropped, mirrors blind, myself

Walking no longer in the morning sun,

Feeling the crispy afternoon light and

The chill of the evening soon to come.

What will I say when They will ask me

What I have done with the span allotted?

I’ve took many forms and of many let go

—The beat of Being danced me out:

I never knew how to move except by

The grace of another. So this I can

Witness: all is immaterial but mirrors.




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