Haunted

The possibility of dimensionless mirrors
Is the prism of the self.

You take only what you give
And even your gift is something
You long to give yourself.

And the soul - the everlasting soul -
Is the presence of the fear of loneliness
And the forsaken form of taken time.

In the mimesis of the simulation
The simulacra of Baudrilliard say

Where there is an echo
That stands alone in the haunted
As we move back, into the disturbed same.