A break from Gratitude

Taking a break from the Gratitude series for a completely unrelated poem, the first draft of which resides at the back of my Physics schoolwork notebook.
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To Narcissus, my Son

Don't walk near the water, child,
For I fear you will look inside
And seeing your reflection,
In all its pretty perfection,
Will never look away.

Don't travel and don't learn, my son --
For out there in the world, anyone
Will tell you of your charm
And of its power to disarm --
And you will learn to kill;

And don't you ever take a bride,
For it will fill your heart with pride
When she looks at you with love
And tells you, smiling, that above
Your grace, there is none.

So don't look into the water
Or into a glassy screen
Or at a polished plate
Or at a glossy magazine --
Don't love, don't learn, don't go away.
Sit down here, with me, and stay
Where every day of all your years
You have always been --

Inside my dark, barricaded home,
Never to be seen.
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I seriously have no idea what that was all about. I was part of a conversation where the original story of Narcissus was told, and this just came to me. Someone please help me explain this, because I, for the life of me, don't know where that came from. All I know is that I have the image of a mother and son talking in a dark room stuck in my head -- the son is about fifteen, and I can't see the face of the mother.

Secondary inspiration : Father To Son by Elizabeth Jennings.