Narcissus gazed into the glossy black pool and
saw within the shiny depths, reflections of such
beauty, that he fell in love with those muted, gentle
tones, the softened image he could not perceive
to be himself. He felt happiness wash over him as
he stared into the depths, thinking that finally he had
found his true love, his mate, his alter ego.
He returned the next day to the same secret place,
but when he peered into the black pool, this time flat and
lifeless, no image smiled back at him, no joy enticed him.
All life had left the blackness, and all he felt was infinite
nothingness, a perfect death which absorbed all colours,
all his features, all his soul. No stars glimmered back at
him, no sun illumined his perfect ignorance.
He never understood that he carried within himself the
inner joy to light the darkness, that his own soul was
the sun of consciousness to indicate his path and give him life.
He never understood that his own dark pain prevented him from
perceiving all the light and beauty that just yesterday had been revealed,
a glimpse of paradise, the promise of eternity.
He said goodbye to this special place, his spirit and heart broken,
never to return, sorrow and solitude now his only companions,
seeking always what he already had, but in his waking sleep,
not understanding, that all along,
the choice was his.
Susan P. Blevins
Susan P. Blevins was born in England, lived 26 years in Italy, and has now resided in the USA for the past 24 years, first in Taos, NM, and currently in Houston, TX. While living in Rome she had a weekly column in an international, English-language newspaper, writing about food and restaurant reviews primarily, though not exclusively. Since living in the USA she has written pieces on gardens and gardening for N. American and European publications, and she is now writing stories of her life and travels and gaining traction in various literary publications. She loves reading, writing, cats, classical music, and stimulating conversation.
The Ekphrastic Review
Find a writer, artist, or poem, etc. by searching here: