I called you the sun

In the hopes that I would be Icarus.

Legendary and famous

And dead in a blaze of passion.

 

But you are not the sun,

You’re a different myth.

 

You are narcissus

And I am the pool,

Your distorted reflection,

The only thing you stay for

Is what I give to you.

But ultimately you will die on my banks

And I will flow on.

 

The sun didn't know Icarus.

The pool loved narcissus,

But of course narcissus only loved

Himself.

I can’t be sure which you are.

 

Maybe we’re both just people.

Maybe we’re not legends.

Maybe we’re not fables.

Maybe we’re just human.

Maybe we’re nothing.

 

Somehow that's far more terrifying,

Than fire or flood.