It’s all mirrors –
whether I crawl
scraping bones exposed
clawing submerged shards
its reflection
still projects
whether my crown
kisses the clouds of intimacy
sees fiercely real love
staring back at me
its intention
still connects
and when sorrow’s
black wings spread
soaring away
transmuted from
the choice to feel into decay
to the recognition
that there is another way
all of my fibres pray
each inch of life
inhabiting this vessel
lights up the bodies
suspended in my sky
remembers there is
no such thing as
the things that are outside.
It’s all mirrors
in this place
just mirrors.

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