Vanity

Beyond sunset.

The sun has quit the sky.

Night stands upon the edge of fullness.

I push myself along upon my belly.

Down the rigid concrete sidewalk.

Built over a rippling, meandering creek below.

My body grinds against the hard cement.

Scraping over the paved path.

To look over the edge.

And peer down at the whispering eddies of water beneath.

Flowing around and over stones.

I gaze upon the waters. 

The dark reflection of dying light on its surface.

Shadows curl around edges of rock.

My mind perceives the shape of Her face.

Dark eyes. Flowing hair. Regal beauty.

Has it been constructed this way by design?

No. 

It is only an accident of the natural world.

The river water and the night sky's reflection.

Should look like You.

"For all of time, the struggle to resist death has only been:

Vanity."

Pull back from the edge of the sidewalk.

Push myself further along, with my feet.

On my stomach.

Carefully up concrete steps.

Slowly down paved ramps.

The sound of trickling rivulets.

Getting closer, or farther, as I crawl.

Flat on my stomach.

The coming night is silent.

No light or sound of life.

Just the constant burble of flowing water.

Around cobble and moss that looks like Her.

Resolved lips. Firm gaze. A profile looking at the water's edge.

I stop and stare, clinging to the sudden drop.

The concrete block of the path inches above.

The shallow flow beneath.

"For all of time, invention has only been:

Vanity."

I strain to cast my eyes upon the view.

Of Your face I see upon the brook.

How have the stones and water all contrived.

To appear so alike to Her face that I can't fail to notice.

But it's just some trick of light.

My hope fills in the pattern that isn't there.

Seeing You everywhere I look.

I pull myself along. 

Further down the paved path.

My chest scraping raw upon its surface.

Going where? I wonder.

The sound of flowing water fills my ears. 

I look once more. 

Upon the surface of the water.

And there I see, another face, still Yours.

But it only looks like you.

You aren't there.

"For all of time, the desire to make love has only been:

Vanity."

I look down at Her imagined face I see.

Set in the flowing water.

Does it appear as though She is looking back?

No. 

It's just an illusion.

That's all.

I crawl on my stomach along the path.

Vanity.

Vanity.

Vanity.