As the Magus Imagines Us

Poem excerpt from the theatre piece The Book of Doorways:

As the magus imagines us, mind is no matter.

But rather is fabric, woven whole and then scattered

Through the halls of creation, where stasis and laughter

And lone lamentation give way to a pattern

So subtle and still that our hungry stare shatters

The pool’s smooth reflection, our mirror torn to tatters.

And we must wait, on the edge of the pond

For our rings and our ripples to pass through the beyond

We must wait, patient, peacefully

For the pieces of you, and the pieces of me

To return back to stillness,

Where again we’ll be free.