Mirage
by Geoffrey Heptonstall

Something else is seen
from a fissure in the stone.
What must never pass
is mistaking the echo for the voice,
or a reflection in the glass
for the living presence,
the spirit in the matter.

The simplicity you seek shimmers
in your accepting eye
deceived by appearance too easily.
A mirage to mock the world.
A response will be revealed
in tracing the source
Like desire it is wild of course
and no less labyrinthine
in its closures and openings
on the way to the heart
All is clear, all that you are.



 

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