II. Beneath the River's Skin

The river wears a mirror’s face,

a shifting mask, a silver trace.

It shows the sky, it shows the trees,

it shows the wind that bends the reeds.

But look too close and the image breaks,

the surface shivers, the silence shakes.

Beneath the glass, another world hides,

a darker current the mask divides.

Fish move quiet, with lanterned eyes,

carrying secrets the depth belies.

Roots reach downward, clutching stone,

whispering truths the waves disown.

And what of me, reflected there?

One face gleams bright, the other is bare.

One self swims deep, beyond the gaze,

one self walks free in the world of days.

The river sings: you are not one—

your mask and marrow cannot be undone.

The skin of water, the soul beneath,

together breathing, together beneath.