You don’t see eye to eye in the city. Everything is a reflection. But not an ordinary reflection. A distorted one. And you need to look at these reflections to figure out what’s going on, going through and where it is going to take you.
No one looks you in the eye. They just pass by and go on. With their lives. Their own lives. And you should go on with yours. But a poet pauses. A poet creates that awkward moment to see more. That little bit more. Through the glass beyond the reflection.
And that is when the city bares her soul.
For her soul lies beyond her reflection. Beyond the mirrors, behind the glass. Her soul breathes and stirs the emotions that run through. Millions come and go through her. Whether they leave intoxicated or abstemious, they leave with an experience they will remember. Because in her they see their reflections. Their distorted reflections. But sometimes what may seem distorted, is the truth here.
No one really comes here to find the truth, but they are surprised when they do. Right next to the buzz, is the calm of the oceans and the mountains. The oasis of thought. The taste of fusion. Have you ever looked down into a volcano? And then turned around to look behind?
The clatter and chaos thrives on the tranquility of the reflections that her soul creates.
And as you walk by looking up and marveling, you don’t see yourself in the reflections but something else. Something deeper. Something with more meaning. But you can’t put your finger on it. But you can feel it. It’s there.
You don’t see it eye to eye. It is a reflection. Just like the city. That is the way you have to experience it. There is no other way.