In our reflections
Time moves backwards and
Words become jumbled. 

In our reflections
We see what others see
But not really.

The thing about reflections 
Is they only give us a glimpse
Into who we really are.

The "man in the mirror"
Is not really who I am.
In fact, I would argue

That looking at that man 
Can bring false pride
And disappointment.

I once heard of a book called,
"No Mirrors in My Nana's House."
I can see why.

Mirrors do not reflect
Who we really are, so
Why get trapped in the glass?

The great enemy to walking
In faith-filled victory
Is letting the power of 
Scripture be masked
By the pride of cliche.

Each morning I look through my drawers
Looking for what outfit would best 
Suit me for the day. 
I see anger, cynicism, pride, and crankiness.
I see sadness, frustration, and entitlement.
Then at the bottom of the drawer
I see humility. 

One of my least favorite pairs of
Tight-fitting pants - ones I've gained 
Too much weight to wear comfortably. 
Yet, after careful deliberation
Something inside me knows I must choose
To wear them, even if they don't fit.

I may not look right,
And passersby may get a good chuckle,
But I know you will reward me with ones
That fit much better:  strength, confirmation,
Restoration, and establishment. 
All of which require a big leather belt.

The fiery depths in the ocean of the star above us
burns brightly against a full moon backdrop
looked at by those who were never there...

Aware to care.

A chemistry incomplete.

Eye’s that almost don’t meet,
but comfort in between sheets
burnt at the feet
and imperfect perpendicular
black lines in a photograph
that doesn't quite cross in view...

It’s not what I’m accustomed to…

We are all in pictures that will be forgotten…

At least I can say the same
for the table of the rotten.

Flipping pages…

Complete.

So many memories
left glossy envelopes alone,
forever unknown,
and old
grey scaled
sunny days
on the beach.

A life of smiling retreats
and no one knows a soul,
especially the one whose view
we knew.

And all those looking into the eye
have all died.

No more tears are cried
and I can smile as I flip on past,
knowing where I, one day to,
will be at last.

I'm sitting in a cage
With a wide open door.
I'm contained by my own
Will, and all I need to do
Is take a step out.
If I do, I'll see the world 
For what it really is
Rather than my 
Prison-minded hallucination.