I stared into the mirror—
peered unblinkingly at eyes
both my own and foreign.
Gazed at a face becoming
less and less familiar,
a mask, alien and strange.
Suddenly the picture jumped—
skipped again—then shattered.
I had stared too long,
now rushing waters,
dark and cold pulled me under.
Drowning in endless reflections,
the splintering of moments,
a kaleidoscope of
infinite self,
all the same,
all different,
fractured by choices
or worse, from indifference.
Every untread path—
Every second thought—
Every missed chance—
Every other life.
And all that could have been.
Each ghost of regret staring back,
as I fell into myself
a million, billion, trillionselves—
diverging and collapsing around me,
all instep and out of step
stuttering, pulsing, undulating.
Letting go,
slipping deeper and deeper down,
in my eyes eternity,
there go I...
but for the beating of the butterflies wings
there go I...
seeing all that could have been—
folding slowly back,
collapsing into one once more,
returned by the tide,
to the shores of one path,
taken
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