(after Deborah Christian)
He stirs in the stillness of his focus,
Not wanting to define the object of his attention
This strange connection, a wispy liaison
Between two pasts, main line and parallel
Sometimes it is like a leaf tensioned on water
One reflects and the other avoids rippling
From a distance there are not two
But one and its mirror image
Reflections themselves never lie
Unlike hearsay and emotions
Contemplating potentiality
Rumor isn't always disinformation
It is perception tied at the ankle to hope
In the plane between object and reflection
Is a sliver of truth infrequently acknowledged
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