Refractions

Light fractures through the surface— a thousand trembling paths, each one claiming the descent to some forgotten floor.

I reach but catch only the tremor of my own hand, the way light bends itself into lies before it lands.

Water holds every reflection like a secret told in reverse: the sky falling upward, the weight of clouds pretending to be sky.

Sometimes what we see is only the break— the moment light decides to become something else, the instant before we know what we've lost.