The hummingbird in the honeysuckle
leaves no trail in the air as it darts
from flower to flower, nor text
to document its progress.
We may have confidence in the existence
of a more sublime realm, or else doubt
that such a world could ever be.
Still, if there were something truly beyond
or lesser than this immediate perfection,
wouldn’t that be a dream, an illusion?
It rained overnight, and now the sun
is reflected in countless drops of water.
They glisten, jewel-like, on the leaves
and petals of the flowers and bushes,
though the light is not their own.
A magician may conjure a fantastic
magical display, yet we still know that
it is not real, but merely a bit of stagecraft.
Is that lovely face in the mirror truly yours,
or just a play of light and reflecting glass?
When we recognize our own self-images
as a mirage, a reflection, or a trail in the sky
left by a flying bird, we may cease deceiving
ourselves and others, and in that way, relinquish
also the weighty burdens of confidence and doubt.