Home . . . face reflected

Entering the house of the mind

by a sequence of unlocking images,

keys in on the subtle waves

of facial composition

to be watched unfolding.

Against this backdrop

of distant memories reflected,

what subtle recognitions there are

are read off of the face

as flashes straightaway.

Not so much that the mask

of imposing disposition drops

or that the shadows

of failed expectations have past

but more of a forest for the trees

if you please

of timelessness in the eyes.

Look into the eyes

that tirelessly endure

any inner whispered account.

Eyes that drink from beyond

and broadcast

from the depth of being

steadfast and exposed,

with radians occasionally flying out

like transparent hi-lighter birds

from cathedral depths within.

And lips that bare witness

to these occasions

with permission’s conscious repose

as a relaxed slung double hammock

of embrace,

not so much of smile intent

but composed of strength

set aside as comfort residing.

There,

in the mythic water bearer pose,

from forehead to chin,

to be perceived as bringing forth

with replenishment to share,

and also as coming through

from afar with afterglow.

There is broadness of face to this,

to effortlessly endure

with a quiet uproar of openness.

For there is no f-stop . . .

no aperture . . .

no in-line cross hair images

that need be by brought into frame.

There, just the indwell

of an all-space facial hologram,

without ego self-dimension’s cleave

of reservations without finale.

Just home . . .

face reflected,

home . . .