You and I

If you have not seen what I have seen it would be easy in the bright, wide sheen of memory, ever to forget that what you deal must someday then be met.

Our earth-bound souls are ever chained down here, forever failing to peer through the mirror and see our icy cruel and sundered minds as you wander under dancing wind-swept pines.

All too easy it ever is to be forgetful of what sunders you from me. My mistakes are not just mine alone; they belong to us and are for us to bemoan.

The cruelty that I can render out: it is not mine, but yours that gives you doubt. You look upon me; hereby can you lie and say that you are not what you descry.

They are not not different, fox and little shrew: evil I or sweet and gentle you. For if we would, we all could be as I. Capable of evil, so we “try”.

But maybe, someday, I could be as you. I could heal the hurts I once did do. Fox grows to shrew, and winter loses cold if we all could ever be so bold.

So I sit and try to do as I, a stupid, feckless mortal to defy. My inner soul will ever this day rue. This is the day when I become like you.