Faces of Incarnation
With Eyes Closed I see the faces of Incarnation
Blood Red, staring, peering back, questioning me, they ask,
Who are you? Who am I? What have we become?
I turn away, I cannot say who or whatâ€™s the real me inwardly?
I cannot hide from their probing, their non searching, our investigations are worthless,
we slither and slide away from the truth without trying to hide ourselves.
Around my defenses the walls crashing turn into sounds internal and dreadful,
Perplexing and draining crushing me with all of that, the thoughts of what we have become.
Are these the faces of Yesterday? of Tomorrow? or are they the who I am Today?
Do they, these faces belong to this moment, or behind it, reason fails?
Camouflaged, am I hidden within this reflection called me?
And as the name called me fails me, does my owned reality dissolve?
No it continues ever onward encompassing all things touches as ripples echo
crossing pools of still water, their emptiness reflects without casting shadows.
Do we create illusions more real than unreal under sky lit by a full moon?