Mirrors

I set out to become aware of my existence. I thought one look in the silver glass might set me straight. I thought I better reconnect, with the thread that underlines my significance, like roots in the dirt. I thought I better regain the capacity to dream, to remember the upside down glow of the carnival at night. I better admit that I believe, that the spectrum could unfold. That we could touch each other, in this magnificent pool of thoughts in which we swim.

So there I was, riding along the current of electric force. Barely a low vibrational hum, barely the moss enslaved on the side of a tree. I sucked up just enough life, and learned just enough words and symbols, to become what seemed like an independent body. But I was a life force disjointed, from the never ending pulse. Weaving and unraveling, with gasps of breath.

I gazed up at star filled squares on the ceiling, and I became the reverberating blackness. A shapeless, formless, moment of night. I was no more than a shadow, with black mud bubbling on the surface of my skin. I was silken as the bottom of the ocean. I became freckled, with the gaseous bursts of light that flew about me, nearly exploding like a gun in my ear. I no longer had any time or place I needed to be, or any reason to be awake. I had stumbled upon what I had been searching for all along, the terrifying infinity of awareness. The quiet, the stillness, looking in the mirror, and listening to your thoughts.