I Waved Back at the Eye

Lyrics

The corridor was indexing itself again.
Each silver archway a footnote to the next.
I walked on a floor of polished doubt.
A feeling of being read.
Then the ceiling stopped being a ceiling.
The geometry softened, the silver plaster swirled into a lens.
An iris of clockwork and mercury opened, unblinking.
Not angry. Just… present.
Every book on every infinite shelf held its breath.
My first thought was a shadow, a recess, a space between lines to hide in.
My spine wanted to curve into a question mark.
But I looked straight back.
I lifted a hand that didn't feel like mine.
And I waved at the eye.
Just a slow, simple wave. Hello. I see you, seeing me.
The focus didn't break. The pupil, a perfect black circle, dilated to drink me in.
I checked the hand that I was waving.
Six fingers. The thumb was a perfect replica of the index.
I closed it and tried again. Still six.
The eye knew. The eye was the reason.
The room was just the inside of its gaze.
So he looked straight back.
He lifted the hand that wasn't quite his.
And he waved at the eye.
A slow, simple wave. I am here, watching you watch.
And it blinked.
One slow, gravitational blink. The sound of a vault door closing a universe away.
The iris cracked like cooling glass.
The mercury and clockwork dissolved.
Not into darkness.
Into a gentle rain of golden feathers.
Each one a single, silent vowel.
They fell on my shoulders, on the books, on the silver floor.
I reached out to catch one.
It landed in my palm and became a perfect, tiny mirror.
Reflecting not me, but a single, golden feather.