The No Poem 

 
 
A mirror faced a mirror, there was nowhere else.  
Reflection into reflection, without an end. 
Nothing could be made of this eternity, 
Whenever it was tried, it all dissolved. 
 
But what am I in this vast sea 
Of reflection? What can I be? 
I am empty, a catalogue of endless links 
And with none do I have identity. 
 
I try to impose upon this reflecting world my 
Modes of thought. I give it form and shape. 
But the reflections just laugh back at me 
And refuse. To be what I want them to be. 
 
I observe in the reflections that birds find the way to their nests 
And rivers find their way to the ocean. 
Do they have a care for reflections, 
Or for making the world into something else? 
 
So I gave into the reflections and 
Refused to place order upon them anymore. 
I became empty and lost in this endless  
Void. And all there was was me. 
 
There was me but there was no self. 
There was no self so could be no other. 
There was mirror facing mirror, nowhere else. 
A world of constant reflection. 
 
I was angry, it reflected back at me. 
I was mean, and that was all I saw. 
I was unkind, and the world was of unkindness. 
I hated everything, and received back hate. 
 
Everytime I took a shot 
I only hit myself. 
All the violence of my desire 
Broke upon me. 
How to become part of this reflecting world, 
To experience it whole 
And not have to force connections 
That are but fabrications of a violent soul? 
 
I must find my way to No-man’s-land 
Where every moment is completely new and fresh, 
Where living is to be willing  
To die, over and over again. 
 
In reflecting there is only now, no past, no future, 
Only this. 
Only more “this” and only “this”, 
This, this, this. 
 
To not think 
Is the hardest thing of all. 
You must allow things to be reflections, 
To be no more than a reflection yourself. 
 
Reflections come and go as they please, 
Let things be as they will. 
You are what observes, 
Not that which you observe.