© 2008 Bobbi Lurie

myth of narcissus

The world leans into me

as I bend to fasten my sandals.

My hair is loose

and the wind arrives. 

There is a black flame inside me

when I see his face. There is a floating garden

and a well with a crank.

If only I could bring the water to my lips.

He sees me

and I lower my head.

So this is Maturity!

Death comes toward us in equal steps.

All work is copyrighted property of Bobbi Lurie.

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