The Narcissus Halo

Peering into your eyes is like witnessing a Carravagio master for the first time, not quite clear, hazy, the Narcissus halo reflecting in those twin pools of deep azure moire silk, falling into their reach one remains secure for a while, above it all, assessing your cloud strewn sun dappled rivers, oh the temptation of it all, to touch what lies untouched underneath below that shining calmly moving surface carrying thoughts and feelings along, it's high tide, the fingers gently touching teasing the no go zone rippling a wake, break the anticipation, the thrill wet and electric, the gently touching, shocked, pull back again, momentarily, played like a puppet on a string, like a harp being strummed, like a bow and arrow aimed, the high tide's current - its pull dark molasses, strong and magnetic, yet it's not Eventide - the moment, one senses, will arrive, to confront, to dive in deep, to meet you within the emeralds, to stroke you, stir the waters for longer than the trip, oh the temptation, the dissipation of a dissolving halo, to breathe life back into your beckoning lips Candide Diderot. ‘24 "fast falls the eventide..."