A still moment in the morning brought a stillness to my thoughts.
Sitting at my window this morning, under a pale grey sky,
I watch a few seagulls wheel and glide quietly by,
heads bobbing, eyes scanning, endless circling patrols.
Finely dressed ducks paddle lazily by in the river,
so effortless in the current, their plumage bright,
marked against the murky water slowly sliding past underneath,
indifferent and unconcerned.
A cormorant pops to the surface from a world hidden below,
a circle of rings pulsing, rippling the scene with some energy.
And in that moment I sense something, a disconnection,
a dark line scratched through the image before me,
like an invisible separation between all that I see,
and that which remains an invisible force,
bulging at the seams of the realm unseen.
Like the mirror hanging on the wall, motion- and emotionless,
telling how everything is from the coldness of its glass;
Like the birds and sky, the trees and the buildings,
reflected in the indifferent water, it shows the world,
moment by moment, in all its stark reality,
remaining unaffected by the moods of mother nature,
powerless to change the image it sees.
We ask all the questions to its face, it has no answer but one,
despite all the power at our disposal, we cannot alter what is reflected,
Life is simply a mirror of what is true, the fruition of possibilities:
Our dreams, the couriers of our hopes, our actions their deliverance,
where what is impossible lurks like a deep current,
waiting on the ingenuity of our minds to break through,
to bridge the gap of illusion.