Through the dark glassly
We seek to sense where the soul is surfacing.
Hard rains and easy breezes (notwithstanding
Errors in judgment) ripple the water. Meanwhile racing
River skaters adjust silently and ceaselessly. The banding
Elegantly startles clarity of the reflection and we look up
Imagining we see the original, not the copy, and are disappointed
Somehow that we are no longer in the picture. Shook up,
We wait for stillness in the surfaces once disjointed
And now we see ourselves again in the clouds
Living as forms not our own but as a whale or
Dolphin or some other porpoise. What we suppose shrouds,
On a lazy summer day, the eye hiding the truth for our valor
And kneeling we look down, for Eros' echo's sake and kiss the glass
Til we are Narcissus's Psyche once again, and make our wakeful splash.
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