247: When Narcissus Lost His Mirror
- Eudaemonia Records
- May 14, 2021
- 1 min read
Reeds whisper around his legs as he sheds
his clothes and steps into the water, cold,
unmoving. The clouds hang low tonight. He sees
no reflection; no mirror for the man
he longs to see. He waits patiently
for the clouds to pass, for sights to be restored
to what they always were and will be.
But the world lies silent, heavy on his head,
like wilted flowers forgetting how to bloom.
By the time the clouds have passed, the night
lies deep around him, whispering in tandem
with the reeds. There is no mirror.
There is no mirror for him to see beyond
the darkling shadows scuttling between his feet,
and he weeps for the misfortunes piled upon
his shoulders. Rings spread out across the surface,
droplets fallen from unclouded skies. He tilts
his head back to see if he has sought
the wrong dimension, wrong world, wrong
time to be alive, but the stars answer
nobody's prayers, blinking cold through fumes
released from roads and factories, and deserted
testing grounds. They have no mercy, only
knowledge that time will grind us all to dust.
Written by: Katrine Hjulstad
Instagram: @katrinehjulstad
Publisher's note: All poetry published with Eudaemonia Records has been viewed and commented on by our editors. Ultimately, however, we believe that it is the writer's decision to accept or reject any suggestions made by the editors, and therefore take no responsibility for the final product.
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