Self Portrait #2-a Letter to me

Nameless faces and marching armies, a still pond; Mirror image of a man-- a mask, a cut, a knife and a sandy dark place; behind lay the dark pool and ahead the infinite abyss.

Mindless drones in an endless battle to free the forgotten and release the other; the naked, the exposed, the hurt, the pain, the emotion. 

Let it bleed in the streets for all to see, let it rumble the sky and light up the nameless blank. The wonderful few of self explorers of who we never know unless we look and still sometimes we don’t see. The invisible few. The only.

 We move forward, we move back. We move forward, we move back. Flickering flame of ocean waves, crashing, stomping, burning, and blurring the edges until we can not see.

 

Can they be found? Can we cut it away; shed the skin, still the fangs, cut the hair? Ice sickle blade sharp and melting-- the all seeing eye in space, where light is free and time stands still. 

Out there somewhere by the rings of Saturn; a letter to me awaits alone, secret and telling; only it can tell me how, show me the way. The nameless faces of the invisible few; the invisible two?

 

We move forward, we move back, we move forward, we move back. The flame cures, the smoke rises and the ocean clears.

 

At the ponds edge I see two images. Two