Reflections

Here I reflect in a mystical place, A multitude of mirrored me That I can see both back and face. We all stand here at a tension, Bounced back and forth along the curve of infinity, Spaced out on a line through a new dementia. 'n' Clamoring crowds of me coalesce And diverge on twisted tracks. In the thick of the throng, it feels all wrong. I don't even know which is me. I'm splintered and splattered, I'm sintered, then shattered. There seems no way to get free. Diffused, bemused, split, and re-knit. Who am I trying to be? It's too far to see! There's too much thinking! Trapped in the middle, I'm, slowly sinking. Too much is revealed; too much is concealed. I stand here congealed in the cold. How can I harvest the thoughts that pass, Flying, rebounding from glass to glass, The insights that start to unfold? I'm hungry for meanings, but after the gleanings, Too few kernels of truth left to hold! A light gleams somewhere in back of the glaze, Behind the showers of reigning daze. Resigned, but despairing, and feigning uncaring, I break off my staring, Stepping back in my chill, damp mold.