Knocking on the Mirror

Standing in front of the mirror
I see a face
Changing, morphing, moving in stillness
Who stands before me?
 
I reach out and the reflection reaches back
Is this a door?
Who's knocking?
Who's reaching back to me?
 
My hand touches the glass
hands touch though the glass.
How can this be?
Is it a trick of light and shadow?
 
As p(s)alms touch
and fingers interweave.
grasping my hand 
in familiar apprehension?
 
Oddly, I hear a knocking
curiouser and curiouser, me thinks
as I feel the rapping
on my heart's door.
 
A gentle rhythm percussing
ma-s-saging me, me-s-saging me
re-minding me, touching me
with familiar intimacy.
 
As I am re-minded, 
I am re-mem-be-re-d
coalescing photonic particles
swirling into particular cohesion
 
Energy and matter dancing
emptiness and form
inter-playing melodies and harmonies
deliquescing in fluidic rapture
 
Mir-r-or me smiles back
in similitude 
opening 
in simultaneous re-cognition
 
Knock, knock.
Who's there?
Buddha.
Buddha who?
 
You-da-Buddha!

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