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         How varied you are,

you,

of countless,

different forms,

always changing

from moment to moment,

now no-thing,

the illusionist’s trick,

the magician’s deception,

that you are you,

and I am I.

 

My enemy, myself,

my friend, my nemesis,

my opposite, my antithesis,

my lover, my brother, my god,

the other,

I cannot deny you,

any more than

the air which surrounds

and defines us,

the you of me,

the I of you,

and each other,

separately,

so convincingly,

and yet…

 

without the mirror of your eyes

imagining me,

without the mirror of my eyes

imagining you,

we would both

disappear.

 

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