A Turbulent Mirror

by pacific


“Everything around me is evaporating. My whole life, my memories, my imagination and its contents, my personality – it’s all evaporating. I continuously feel that I was someone else, that I felt something else, that I thought something else. What I’m attending here is a show with another set. And the show I’m attending is myself.”

― Fernando Pessoa

Do I weave these moments, or do they weave me? 

Blinking here, flickering there, caught in a breeze, 

Spiraling out, or spinning in, no hint of intention. 

Caught in the scope of a placid sea, a spotless reflection. 

Staining me with hues of another time, another story, 

Marooned on the folds of homeless memories. 

I’m not me. I can’t be me, with so many faces in the sea, 

Expanding the palette, with every crease, 

Coloring in the vacancies, whispering their quiet diction. 

Scattering the storyline, into a plotless inscription. 

Moments lost and found, weeping their quiet inspiration. 

Their stories become my timeless odyssey. 

The flap of their wings, give rise to my stormy seas. 

Oh how fickle a thing is identity

Photo: pinterest.com


5 Comments to “A Turbulent Mirror”

  1. Can you put your name in category please, nice poem.

  2. Great concept. Wonderful title and photo. I was so intrigued by your presentation of the theme. Loved the line – “Oh how fickle a thing is identity”. Fantastic insight on the last line. Especially true as we age and learn more about life and love. Funny how different people view us so differently and yet we seem the same. Thanks!

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