I sit with the essence of myself,
like a glass within a glass,
refracting,
layer upon layer over
this singularity,
a point that I cannot see,
for it is perhaps myth:
a story, a version,
I tell myself about my selves
that foam and move with
place and time,
and yet I still look, look deep,
for that which is hidden
in the mystery of me,
maybe staring back
when I look away,
and coming dark to the surface,
unexpected, haunting,
even though I have convinced
myself that I have come
such a long, long way.

 

4/10/2025