It is an image scattered
By the flips and folds of ripples
Cascading from the splash
Of when the pebble of choice
Slammed against the unruffled
Surface of the lake of memories,
Upon which you had imprinted
Your face firmly, tunneling through
My vulnerable eyes and planting it
Within the impenetrable vaults
Of the crumbling ruins of my soul.
That image refracted light
To every corner, seeking parallels,
Dusting away with reassurances
Every little shadow and, like Atlas,
Keeping my world from destruction.
Yet somehow you realised my soul
Was not the paradise you sought
And, just like that, let it all fall
As you ran back out of my life
And vanished leaving nothing behind
But your face in the water.
I tried for a long time to hold on
To the last hints of your reflections
Which banished shadows in my mind.
Yet it wasn't you and I knew
That ruins ought not to exist too long.
So I picked up a pebble
And let it spash with a force
At the remnants of your memory,
Letting the ruins fall
And as the water settled
And another face took form
I gazed at the new face, an old one,
One I'd dismissed as unimportant,
One I pushed aside to make room
For the faces of others,
And once more, like I had so long ago,
Designed and constructed a paradise
From the flickering candlelight
That burnt by the wick of ideas
Channeled from the light that was formed
Upon the surface of the now still water--
An image of my own soul.
- 27/06/18
