The Reflection

There is little chance for reflection now. Other than the reflection of faces.
I have known since the day of my birth. A cool distraction from my isolation.
And the faces I've known as friends. Have disappeared into their worlds.
Of shop-bought concerns, of busyness. There be no time, be no chance.

When did I ever see it? The manufacture of humanity?
The sun rises to their toil. It sets to their indulgence.
I sat with rocks in hand. Now too tired to throw them.
When will the world stop to fall in love. Never, I've known never.

Close your eyes then, child of love. Wife of apathy, mother of none.
For a woman-child belongs there. In the shimmering darkness.
And with one last try for pure love.  Give him all your soul and body.
If the sky shifts and you are alone.  Just close your eyes one last time.