Amor and Psyche

Have you seen her?

She moves easy, like leaves on a windy day

She swims through eternity, energy of sunrays.

She looks at you with the desired glimpse

Of a mystical creature, pretenatural nymph;

But she is no myth you see,

She is you, she is me.

She takes your hands and gives you a box,

A cubic cocoon that will help you metamorphose.

You hear her voice, beautifully intoned:

She says her name is Psyche,

But has wings like Nike.  

She says you must not see with your eyes.

You find the key in the back of your mind

Long forgotten, the subconscious unwinds

The secret you already knew,

But hadn’t dared to open Pandora’s box

Until you met her, not someone new

What? Not a scent, not a feeling,

Who? Not the question, not the meaning.

At the end of the labyrinth she awaits

And you finally dare to unveil

The secret: emancipation, which reveals the trail.

You venture free of privation,

Towards your winged salvation.

But at the end of the maze

You can’t find her arcane gaze.

All you see is a mirror:

You know you have reached cenit,

Nirvana, love, the top of the pulpit.

And your queer reflection is the affeerer.

You look in the mirror as you transcend perception

It’s not your body, but your essence that you see:

It is still trapped inside a body, a mundane creation,

But now you feel free

And so you see

That there is no she,

No you, no me.

There is only us.

Collective, united, undivided: us.