Friday, December 4, 2015

INCHOATE

In the beginning was the mirror
Self contained, inviolate, just there
As the glass caught the slant of the sun
Refractions of broken prisms diffused
Looking at the mirror today
With the accretion of time and history
A blurring is what i sense most palpably
Or a blotting, of being and becoming
So wrapped up is being
Shredded by myriad variables
That more than a mosaic
A tattered rag hangs limply
Becoming, meanwhile, embedded
In signs and customs and symbols
Gives form to a nebulous
By closing off , adding a touch of foreclosure
Intersecting forces only repel
As the interstice of ought and is
Attenuate by context but are striated
By predilections of contingency
Meanwhile the mirror has proliferated
Into a recidivist hall of reflections
Spawning, disfiguring, superimposing
Overlaying the essence that never was
Fitful illuminations of probity
Merge with metallic self loathing
Chaos is only ever entombed
In the disinterred heart of nothingness
Gleams of light felt within
Grope , meander and spill out
Flickering tremulously but with belief
Rays of hope and reprieve

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