Oh, little goldfish,
leaning upon your throne of glass,
whirling and wandering with grace
within the crystal chains of your clear immuration—
your tail tracing ripples
in the irises of my wondering eyes,
winking at me in the flicker of your scales.
How frightened you were when I changed your water,
when all I sought was to reward you
for the dowry of your sieving beauty,
your endless wonder.
Why did you never glimpse
the ocean of my good intentions,
the mirror spilling infinity into your lucid dance?
Why did you never see the bondman of your allures,
drowning in the bottomless depths of your charm?
Were you a god in a glass jar,
immersed in the purity of your world,
untouched by the effluence of others,
cured by the transparency of all waters—
yet bound by the servant, the shrine,
confined by the shape of the home you created?
Were you the soul of all shimmering chandeliers?
The spring of all crystal veins?
The silent judge of brightness
within my senses, my bones, my very blood?
I remember dreaming of you
beyond this glazed prison.
I remember you swimming
in the mirrors of clear ponds,
weaving translucent threads
with the needles of your pure eyes,
glittering in the gems of all tears.
I remember you quenching parched throats,
gliding, reeling through trembling hands,
cocooning within the silk of every soul,
gushing into wounded hearts with healing light,
sewing the gaps of tattered hopes,
needling through the frayed ends of yearning.
With the twinkling tail of your shimmering yarn,
you stitched beams of brightness
into the deepest shadows—
into the heart
of heartlessness.
Now, you are gone.
Yet you live in my dreams,
for only I
remember—
you were God.
