Image in the mirror, showing us as it is even if we don’t want to see what’s in display, dancing rather than running yet, running. Sparking fireworks, instead of being the grill that doesn’t start on the 4th july, when you most wanted it to. The wind speeding up the tortoise tempo of burning hot incense, through the cracks of a curtain like the sun beams of an early 5 a.m. summer. Something far to unjustifiably reach for even if it means putting a pet in bafflement for rising up too soon. Briefly upsetting a best friend because the sacrifice you chose for a night in to write and bring a piece of you into light to shine by day. The daze you’re struck by the gleaming eyes, as if a lantern has lit ignited in you, fueled by the realization knowing you are the one and the split spirit that resides in the other, in cycles of preparation per say, ubound by karmics and the truthful lessons that come with it. Tethered, like the cord that made you out the box of your nurturing lovingly mother, connected like a string of lights on a roof height in the Christmas time. My gift to you from us, you and I, being the reflection that I can’t run/look away from, entangled at the quantum level like laces on a shoe, being two but one intertwined by the upper hand, with fingers interlocked into perfect fit despite being in polarity there’s no room left to be right if this makes energetic sense. It was real when I was only to able be me as my love spun like the planet or the magic that lit up and constantlycycled around us like a Ferris wheel