Reflecting, the world is not as it seems.
Appearing static on the great flow,
images distorted, golden lines blurred,
wrinkled colours shiver in my eyes.
A vague impression of what really is
the shimmering surface
hiding darkness below,
in the cool depth another world lives.
Where our survival, impossible
while other life thrives in a cold realm.
For those moments,
illusory time that held me captive,
I fell in love with Narcissus’ trap,
the vision on the surface.
I knew it was a passing flirtation of light,
I was happy to believe,
to escape the up standing world
and accept the lie,
of the reversal of life
on a river that runs to the city and sea.
- Ciaran Burke