a nod, curtsy, a gesture to signify

something missed, and barely touches

the heart even though the mirror reflection

played out to perfection.

a point of view, a paradigm shift or not

one when throwing pebbles is no

longer what a grown up wants to do

when water solidifies to ice,

this icy heart making calculations, falling

behind at each step real.

the shadow mimics the actor, the actor

plays for the audience entranced by the

steps, the dance, the movements

of symbols meaning something bizarre,

life is funny in that sense

when the parts make up less than

the final good.

missteps, miscalculations, like a river gone off

chart, now the moon bemoans a lost chance:

of never capturing that perfect wave.

it went by again, and again, and again

with spectators zeroing in on shadows flitting

like bats across the night sky with little light,

a crescent and even then

the clouds groan with heavy burden,

thunder vibrating the surrounding air

then clarity again at something found,

the actor has lost his reflection, his shadow,

becomes acutely aware of being observed

makes no excuse, of whining or regret.

it is now or never, exclamation, jubilance

at having becoming free,

then the iron chains come back once again,

as always – – –

like the sun that must rise in the morning,

the lesser departs to make way for the stronger,

a curtsy, a bow, a gesture

hypocritical because the heart resides with the vanished moon.