without mirrors
seeking out the places
that live large in my mind,
stage crafting archetypes
of all manners and sorts,
mostly blind to
their own reflections.
the dour intelligentsia crowd,
the people pleasers,
those who wish
to exert exact control,
more rare are those
who want only to drift
in the current
of this universe
helping as they can
and feeling joy.
than a moment
in astronomic time.
is a thinly veiled memoir
that is either disingenuous,
reeking of some
shallow sophistication,
or clear-eyed
and painfully beautiful,
something that gives us
the space to grow
into our new dimension,
far beyond the
prosaic and paralyzing routine,
these invaluable sparks
of creativity, they
birth masterful
and hectic interludes
that remind us that
if we’re in that
proper place of balance
we never have
to choose between
the life of art
or the art of life.
if only we
have the courage
to train our eyes
to see and then learn
to love we we see of
our own reflection.
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