The Absence of Wavelength

Rebirth Infinite

from the bath, the fog yielding
a thin, white vapor, a clear path
lays before a fumbling boy,
a dreaming child, not yet fully born --
meets a mirror for reflection,
only sees what he wants, returns
to bed to dream again and again.

from start of time, or around five AM,
eyes open to the same scene, returning.
to the same mirror he lingers, bemoaning
time's infinite winding, winding a soul.
from the eyes that held visages of old
he see time to time the past emerging,
rather than opening doors to the future,
as he keeps returning to the death bed,
waiting for the day he won't re-arrive.


6.24.21