in the hall of mirrors: seven

the edges cut. the ledges call.
but I am not to take the fall.
pain regards with practiced eye
the will to lov., to live, not die,
in the hall of mirrors, standing still,
reflections wrap about me, shrill
screams of dreams long discarded
when veils are pierced and rudely parted
by the brutal truth of kronos over kairos.
forgetting what it thinks, what it knows
to be illusion, tricks of the lights,
promises made in the darkest of nights
without a will to fulfill prophecies
we speak soft, with fading certainties.