A grand delusion
At the end of a road
A wrong fork taken
Many eons ago
He didn’t choose his friends
Everyone was welcome
And he played no favourites
But few weathered well in his company
Most faded quickly
In that radiant presence
I loved the bastard
And hated him
Because he tried so hard
To place features
On their bodies
On their faces
Which he just couldn’t recollect
Over time he’d lost
The recollection of the places, too
How odd
That the one crystal clear element
In this one otherwise tortured image
Was the frame shop
Filled with photographs and paintings
Recorded for eternity
No one
Ever
Does
I often wonder, then
Am I the blur?
Am I the shadow?
In all those other eyes
I can barely see
And yet
I miss the sea
An urban inlet
Is not a wide sandy beach
On a limitless sea
With breakers vaulting salt spray
Into the atmosphere
Eye look in the mirror
Remind myself to look away
So eye can see the me who is
Rather than the me who is seen
Eye reflect on my deeds, on my actions
Measure them against my ideals, my beliefs
I is a thing
Which cannot see
Beyond the shell
Which houses I
The gentle beat of my heart
A metronome
A clockwork
But the thrum of life
Is not the energy of being
Body working; spirit latent
Pix to Words 