Overberg

“I’ve been looking at this infinite us,”
you said to him as I witnessed
our open hearts hear each other
in a mirrored house of memory
molded into massive mountains
made up of all the old patterns we carry
and came here to clean simply
by watching all the receding images
which so resist feeling that, in fact,
myself is no more real
than all those many faces
who misguide this make believe me
into a mind which misses the mark,
the method, the manner which connects
us to the infinite: always different and,
in this, the same.

Traces

First mirror

To taste

The unseen