mirror

Figment

Waking up in the dark,

before the earth rotates and the sun appears to rise,

I sit on the edge of a bed, facing a wall-size mirror.

 

I position myself so the mirror divides my reflection:

half I can see,

as if the mirror were the past,

where in the mud of memory,

I get bogged down.

Whatever the past, good or bad,

I can’t change a thing.

Or else,

looking forward,

I imagine the future,

beginning where the mirror ends.

A figment I am in time.

The future appears

delicious, fearful, lovely, dreadful;

imagining makes me hungry,

never a scrap to eat.

 

Between the two illusions,

one moment divides the past and future.

 

Now

is all there is.

One

forever moment.

 

Being there,

requires desire.

That’s all.

 

It feels so good to go,

is such an easy place to be,

though not so simple to recognize,

and difficult to stay,

until giving up,

I discovered not to try.

 

Heaven is a girl so easy to please.