It was a Thursday night,
I walked into a pub,
Who's that sat by the window?
Walking towards him, he looked up,
Was I looking into a mirror?
The feeling of a dream came over me,
and so began
the day I met myself.
We got along famously.
We agreed about music,
We agreed about art,
We agreed about politics,
We agreed about philosophy,
We agreed about religion,
We agreed about morals,
We agreed who were the bad people,
We agreed who were the good people,
We laughed so much, at all the things we had in common.
We cried about our hurts,
Then a silence ascended, we didn't know what to say!
Then we both agreed on one more thing,
To never see each other again.


Songs for this, Mirror man by The human league.
Mirror in the bathroom, The Beat.

Two birds land beside me.

Not circling in the air to look down on me. Not fleeing. Not accusing. They… join me.

The tern— Alcyone. The Wind carried her away from here. And now she has returned. With a storm petrel.

I recognize that soul…

Ceyx.


I feel their weight settle next to me. I brace for words—sharp, deserved, condemning. But none come. Only silence. Just the soft lean of the storm petrel’s head against my shoulder. The brush of a wing along my arm. A breath shared between us— wordless and impossibly warm.

“Don’t.” The word slips through gritted teeth.
“Go.” Sharper now. “Please—don’t forget what I’ve done to you.”

But they remain.


I press my palms hard into the stone. Try to hold my body still, composed... as if stillness could redeem me.

Why are they here? Why aren’t they afraid?
I ruined them. Tore at them with hands I thought were gentle. I—
A tremor moves up my arms.
“I don’t…” I clench my jaw. My voice is thin. “I don’t deserve this.”
Ceyx lowers his head again. Leans closer.

I recoil, quick and ugly.
“Don’t… do that.” I hiss, more at myself than him.
He withdraws... not in fear, but grace. He settles back. Gives me space. But doesn’t leave. Neither does she.
Why?


The silence thickens. My sorrow coils into something harder.
I grit my teeth. I stare at the bridge beneath me. My hands are shaking.

“I was so cruel,” I snap. “Not because I hated you— but because she told me to.”
My voice breaks open.
“She said you were broken. Fleeting. Mistakes. And I believed her.”
I laugh. It splinters in the air.
“She said I was mercy.”
I wipe at my face. My hand doesn’t stop trembling.
“She lied. Obviously. Obvious to everyone but me.”
They do not answer. But still, they remain.
I stare at them.

Ceyx, quiet, unmoving. Alcyone, head tilted. Still.
Why?

“I hurt you.” My voice is lower now. Threadbare.
“I’ve only ever caused pain. Because I wasn’t strong like you. You endured.”
My fists curl.
“You… Ceyx, you were taken and yet you still refused to be consumed. And you, Alcyone, even after being blamed, all alone, you never stopped looking.”
My voice shakes.
“And the Wind...” I pause. Swallow hard. “He faced what I ran from. He fought her. He gave you wings.”
I shake my head.
“I couldn’t even hold onto memory.”
My breath stutters.
“I’m worthless.”

Silence.

But they’re still here.

And… so am I.


I look past the edge of the bridge. And I lean toward the distance.
Let myself fold forward. Arms braced against the cold. Head bowed.

It isn’t punishment. Just rest.
I don’t rise.
I don’t run.
I exhale.

And I feel it.
Soft feathers at my arm again.
Ceyx, sitting upon my shoulder.
Alcyone, closer now, resting against my side.
This time, I do not pull away.
I let them stay.
I close my eyes.
They are warm.
They are real.
And they wait beside me.

The Wind said he would return. I did not understand. But I still believe him. I still have faith in him. That’s all I have.

This faith.


They haven’t left. And I’m still here.
I don’t know what that means.
But maybe it means I can wait.

Even if I don’t deserve to.

We sit. Three quiet shapes. Softened by something I cannot name.
We wait. For the one who gave them wings... the one I’ve somehow forgotten.

Not because it’s easy. Not because I am ready. But because...
Well, I want to see him again. I want to remember him. And patience is what it takes for that to happen.
So I stay.

I wait.

...

I have held empires in stillness,
But this waiting...

...

Waiting is a ***** to bear.

How in this **** universe am I supposed to be patient?

...

But there’s nothing I can do about it now, is there?
And The Wind, he’s the one fighting. He’s the one facing her, fate. He’s the one who gave them wings, who left so I wouldn’t have to return to my miserable ignorance…

This pain, is nothing compared to what you’re going through…

And even if the magnitude of this pain rose to meet infinity…
He…
He’s worth it.

So alright, let’s wait together.
At least…

At least I’m not alone.

I see myself in light and shadow.
I wipe away “always and never” like spilled water,
when the paradox bothers me.

I dissolved my soft boundaries,
in the name of unreal faith.
So many places, so many faces,
yet another beginning.
I keep rolling a big stone beside others.
The home I dreamt of now exists in my world.

I have found this time, this place
describing what cannot be translated:
a room for uncertainty,
farewells and returns.

I like to stand in the last row,
to see tired bodies.
I whisper good words,
to make the world a little better.
My sovereignty is a willingness
to be an echo,
the symbol, the myth,
or a meaningless element
in the chain of woven stories.

I love metaphors.
I find myself in a forest of ellipses,
that bring unbearable truths.

Tensions, contradictions,
awareness that everything that lights
brings unseen weight.

I am a part of stories,
to vanish into oblivion—
the done past.

The Earth still breathes with me,
or without me,
among blooming linden trees.
So, I want to stay,
to open my eyes,
and be with what remains.

What is the value of a life
Of a husband or a wife 
Of a daughter or a son.

Do these labels give value to one,
More so over the other?

Is a wife less valuable than a mother,
A father more valuable than a son?

Does value rise or fall
as one becomes another?

Surely every life can't be worth the same!
Can it?

 I wonder.
Is a peasants life,
of less value than a kings!

Or does Status, Creed, Race, or Color,
truly, not mean a **** thing?

It is true that I would place my
wife, my son, and my brothers
life over that of another.

But that value is given to them only by me.
No life is worth more
than any other in reality.

Yet until we can open
our hearts and minds to see.

The true value of life will never be!