El Ojo del Lago

his true false-self 

enamored, groomed, 

handsomely shaped; 

speaking in sweeping 

statements, 

heard only inside a 

closed mind. 

mirror-faceted 

presence, 

devoid of innocence; 

insuring 

all shreds of truth 

spill out, discarded 

in the misty gloom 

of emptiness. 

ever stepping 

backward, 

each pace measured

in short sure clips,

their sound

resounding off

veiled, barren walls

containing nothing.

each thought

measured

by internal mentors,

interrupting all

incoming understanding,

while

reflecting outward

mind-dulling,

syllogistic rhetoric.

all performed

with a flourish,

to moans

escaping from

the upturned mouths

of those held captive

in the spell —

forced to dwell

day by day

therein.

Rob Mohr