IV. The Mirror of Water

I kneel beside the river’s silver face,

its shifting glass a threshold for my eyes.

It gathers light, yet shadows still find place,

and holds them both in one unbroken guise.

Each ripple blurs the line of dark and flame,

a language spoken neither loud nor clear.

It does not choose between the night or day,

but lets them mingle, balanced, trembling near.

And as I watch, my own face drifts apart—

half veiled in dusk, half shining with the sun.

The water keeps the fracture of my heart,

yet teaches me that two are always one.

So in this stream both worlds are reconciled:

a mirror deep, both broken and beguiled.