Detachment Poem by Wandering Biku

Looking from the other side of the mirror,
Seeing through dirty glasses,
There is something not real about this moment
Like looking at a reflection of a reflection of a reflection….
Something just undefinable,
A gap between my here,
And their here.
My now,
And their now.
So fine as to be invisible but so wide
That one is unaware of the other.
I'm existing in their world
But not of their world.
Watching life as a live broadcast
With a nano-second delay.
Seeing the muzzle flash
Then hearing the shot.
The familiar is unfamiliar,
The same, though different.
Like the thinnest sheet of clear ice
My perception could shatter…..
But then do I return to what was before?
Or am I left with an existence of emptiness?